


Truth

by mansikka



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Canon, Angst, Despair, F/M, Family, Fluff, Hunters & Hunting, Implied Sexual Content, Jealous Dean, M/M, Mild Smut, Pining Dean, Protective Castiel, Siblings, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-07
Updated: 2016-03-07
Packaged: 2018-05-23 09:21:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 44,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6112061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mansikka/pseuds/mansikka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bobby always told them that family doesn't end in blood, but that's still a little hard to swallow on the day that Cas shows up in the bunker with a young woman held tightly in his arms, asking that she is kept safe. When it's revealed that Cas himself is being hunted, Dean and Sam do all they can to help - including providing refuge to someone who is just about as stubborn as them. Watching Cas grow increasingly tired as he evades capture, Dean allows himself to acknowledge just how much Cas means to him. Is he brave enough to tell him before it's too late?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello :)
> 
> This is the first fic I've written that involves an o/c ... please give them a chance, they're only there for good things, I promise, and by good things, mostly I mean getting to see sides to Cas we don't normally get to see. I'm still a destiel girl, and DeanCas'll be happening somewhere along the way if you choose to stick with it :)
> 
> It's also the first fic I've written that has a plot to it that isn't purely Dean and Cas pining/longing/smutting at each other (smutting's a word, right? It is now...), and I had more fun writing it than you'll probably have reading it. But I'm posting it anyway, 'cos I'm like that :)
> 
> I've marked it as Teen for now but I'll change it to Mature along the way because (eventually) it will be in places, and since you can't change the ratings for each chapter I'm kind of stuck. I'll try and update tags appropriately as I go along as well to reflect, um... stuff.
> 
> It's all written already so it won't disappear on you in case you do happen to like it, and will probably be posted daily/every other day, depending on time and stuff.
> 
> And now, I'll stop talking :)
> 
> Thank you for reading!
> 
> x

“What've I told you about picking me up unannounced?”

The unknown voice echoed out in the relative silence of the bunker, and Dean and Sam moved as one; jumping up from the table with weapons trained, silently stalking along a hallway and into the library where the sound had come from.

A silent conversation between them, and they were turning the corner, ready to face whatever was waiting for them there.

The guns dropped to their sides instantly when they saw Cas with a woman held tightly in his arms against his chest, who wriggled in obvious protest at being there. Dean's eyes widened as he took her in, clenching his jaw tight, and his first instinct to drop the weapon immediately replaced by a second one to bring it straight back up and take aim.

Cas seemed yet to be aware of their presence and let out a heavy, put-upon sigh, looking down at the woman he was holding on to with the faintest amusement evident on his face.

“Yes, Bea. I remember,”

'Bea' continued struggling indignantly, flailing about as though she was trying to get comfortable. She folded her arms expectantly whilst tapping one foot impatiently against the other in mid air, having angled herself away from him in a way that made it difficult for him to keep hold without dropping her. Cas adjusted her slightly with a huff, then sighed again as she settled, as though this was a repeat of a regularly occurring event that he had grown tired of, but still found himself unwillingly participating in.

“‘Number one. I must always pick you up when you are fully dressed, not whilst you are sleeping, and never forget to bring your bag with you.’ It's on my shoulder,” he quoted, before giving a small shrug of his shoulder as if to prove his words. Bea reached out to tap the strap there in confirmation, nodding in approval, before refolding her arms and hitching up an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue.

“‘Number two. Do not interrupt your experiments.’ I waited until the autoclave had finished, just as you have told me to do countless times, and placed the samples in the refrigerator, as you were about to do.” he said in a patient though slightly amused tone.

Bea squirmed harder then to be let down, and when he released her she stood facing him square on with her hands on her hips.

“You're learning, finally.” She admonished, a smile curling her lips upwards. “Kinda creepy knowing you were watching me when I couldn’t see you though, Cas. We’ve talked about this.”

Cas rolled his eyes, which had Bea clearing her throat in irritation. “And number three?”

Cas gave yet another exasperated sigh, but this one was laced with affection, and Dean swallowed uncomfortably as he watched Cas’ face break into a wide smile. “Number three,” he repeated, leaning in slightly towards her as though he were a co-conspirator in something, “‘I must take you for sustenance.’”

“ _Pancakes_ , Cas,” she said, reaching out , tugging on the lapels of his trenchcoat as she spoke. “I want pancakes.”

It was at that moment that Cas inclined his head to peer past her, having finally noticed Dean stood there watching them, open-mouthed.

Cas straightened himself up, his face frozen as though he had been caught out, with Sam and Dean both raising a simultaneous eyebrow seeking out an explanation. “Dean. Sam.” He said, very deliberately as his face rearranged into a mask. “Can I interest you in breakfast?”

***

Bea spun rapidly on her heel at Cas' words, a look of alarm filling her face whilst her arms rose up automatically, as though she was preparing to defend herself.

Her eyes grew wide as saucers, comically matching those of Dean's, although he was too stunned in that moment to notice. Bea took a small step back, bumping right against Cas’ chest, her arms dropping by her sides with her fists clenched knuckle white. Cas' hands rested on her shoulders in reassurance, giving them a light squeeze before sliding them down and letting them bounce off of her arms.

Dean’s eyes narrowed a little more, glaring hard at Cas’ fingers as they moved.

“Huh. Guess you guys must be the _Winchesters_ Cas can't stop talking about.” Bea said, looking at them with open curiosity.

The familiarity with which she addressed Cas, and the way she seemed to know them when they had no knowledge of her at all, snapped something in Dean, while Sam remained silent and bewildered beside him.

“Uh. _Cas_?” Dean said, voice dripping with a demand for explanation.

“Good morning, Dean.” Cas turned his head a little, “Sam.” Sam gave him a half-wave, eyes still trained on their _guest._

“Who's your friend?” Dean nodded towards Bea but stopped short of making eye contact with her.

“ _Friend_?” Bea snorted, still studying him with interest, “I don't know if I'd be _friends_ with this...this...” and she glanced briefly over her shoulder, still not completely ready to take her eyes off of Dean and Sam.

Dean recognised her look as one that was undecided, as though she was making up her mind whether he and Sam were friend or foe. As though she actually thought she had a right to be doing just that.

Dean instantly found that he didn’t like it at all, especially when she tilted her head to the side and gave a soft laugh. “But... I guess he's as close to family as I'm ever gonna get,” She turned a little more then, casting a shrewd eye over Cas, who looked as though he was biting back several retorts at once.

“Bea,” Cas began, testily, “If you really were my 'little sister', as you keep saying, perhaps you would not give me such a ‘hard time’ every time I see you.”

“Huh. Where would the fun be in that?” she asked dismissively, spinning back to Dean and casting a critical eye over him head to toe. With an afterthought, she waved, still showing reservation. “I'm Bea, by the way.”

“ _Bee_?” Dean repeated, eyebrow raised at Cas, asking countless questions at once.

“Yeah. _Bea_ , as in _Beatrice_. Do I look like a Beatrice to you?” she demanded, hands back on her hips, and Dean couldn’t tell what the right answer might be to that.

“Dean,” and there was mirth in Cas’ voice when he spoke, which stirred up all sorts of unexplained churning in Dean’s gut, “I advise you to answer that question very carefully. I have known her to kick when she is being teased. It is usually me she kicks,” Cas added in a warning said over her shoulder, and she flung back an arm to hit him in the chest without even looking. He moved, good-naturedly taking a step back as though there had been actual force to her aim, even though there was no way she could have done him any harm in the slightest.

“You deserve it. Every time,” she quipped offhandedly, eyes now focusing on Sam.

“What... what the hell is going on, Cas?” Dean had finally grown past impatient, and his voice raised, cracking with anger.

Cas sighed again, taking in Dean’s expression and knowing he was in for an awkward conversation whether he wanted one or not. With a slight drop of his shoulders, he assured him reluctantly, “I shall explain all. Would you care to join us for pancakes?”

“He's the one with the car, isn't he?” And suddenly Bea was smirking at Dean, who just continued looking back at her, utterly bewildered.

“Yes.” Cas confirmed.

“Good,” she nodded, walking towards Dean, who took an involuntary and unexpected step back. “'cos you know how I hate it when you zap me places.” Bea came to stop right in front of Dean, staring up at him as though he were the one who should be offering up an explanation.

Dean felt a confusing pull of camaraderie at her words, and doubt flickered plainly on his face. “I hate it when he does that,” he agreed, surprising himself, and she took it, nodding repeatedly in agreement with a wide, open smile.

“I know, right? Seriously. Every time, my juicer gets so much work. _So_ much. And _god_ I hate cleaning that thing,” she finished with a scowl, turning slightly to glare at Cas.

And for some reason, Dean found that hilariously funny. The distrust in his eyes faded minutely, and he stood a little taller, looking down at her as though he had no clue what his instincts were telling him to do.

Without breaking eye contact with her, he asked, “Need a ride, Cas?”

***

Dean found that couldn’t keep his eyes off of Bea in the mirror of the car, constantly glancing back there and finding himself asking more and more questions that he couldn’t yet say out loud. But he did watch, very closely, feeling unsettled at the ease and comfort he saw there between this stranger and his friend, his-

Dean sternly told himself to shut up. Cas might be his _friend_ , but somehow he was also so much more than that. Even if Dean didn’t know what that meant. Even if he didn’t have the courage to explore anything about that feeling just yet at all.

Technically speaking, his inability to act on his instincts when it came to Cas was nobody’s fault but his own. So blaming this new… _acquaintance_ , he tried, grimacing a little at the feel of the word in his mouth, was not only unfair, but also only going to make him feel that much worse.

Instead, he did his best to engage with Bea, although his efforts would not have been mistaken as friendly.

Dean challenged Bea on her knowledge of Cas as though he were quizzing her for a test, desperate to see if there were any gaps in the things she knew about him. Bea responded with ease, showing what seemed to Dean like no need for any kind of effort, and he squirmed uncomfortably in defeat with every answer that she gave.

With a sinking feeling that lingered and settled heavily over him like an ominous cloud, Dean could acknowledge that she really did know Cas, and really very well.

Cas and Bea had their own in-jokes, which to witness made Dean ache in ways he couldn’t make any sense of. For every discomfort Dean experienced at a new revelation, or a knowing look passing between them that he didn’t understand, a little voice in his head whispered that perhaps he didn’t really know Cas that well at all, or that he’d never known him.

In fact, to see how at _home_ Bea looked there tucked into Cas’ side as they strolled together from the car to a diner without so much as a glance back in Dean’s direction, Dean felt a lot like he was intruding on something he shouldn’t be.

It was probably unfair of Dean to feel as though Bea needed shutting up, but he couldn’t help the relief - and okay, perhaps amusement - that the only thing that put a stop to what she joyfully referred to as her favourite ‘Cas facts’, was the arrival of a mound of pancakes that she forked onto her plate without waiting for anyone else to help themselves, smiling in delight.

“Alright. You gonna explain yourself, Cas?” Dean asked finally, when he’d loaded his own plate up, his eyes still trained on Bea carefully, with more than a little resentment there.

“I will attempt,” Cas bowed his head a little, also looking over at Bea.

“Do I have to be here for story time?” Bea whined, but not actually moving, far too busy coating her pancakes in syrup before handing Sam the bottle without even glancing up. Sam stared down at the bottle in his hand for a moment as though he had no idea what it was, then his face cleared, and he followed her example.

“Yes. Since this concerns you too.” Cas told her with certainty.

Bea sighed, waving at him with her fork, indicating for him to continue.

Cas took a slow, grounding breath, and began.

“Bea,” he nodded over at her, “Is unique. She was borne to two vessels possessed by angels, and raised, more or less as an orphan, in a catholic boarding school just outside of Des Moines.”

“Think less Harry Potter, more orphan Annie,” Bea offered, helpfully in between bites. “And is this a geography lesson too, Cas?” She asked, crossing her eyes at him and muttering _nerd_ under her breath, though loud enough for them all to hear. “Wanna pull out some maps? Bring out the compass?”

“They treated you remarkably well, Bea,” Cas chastised, rolling his eyes as she smirked.

“You think? You didn't taste the meatloaf,” she said, screwing up her nose in utter disgust, which earned her a brief, though involuntary grin from both Dean and Sam.

Cas turned a little toward to her, silently asking for permission to carry on. Bea gestured with her fork in his general direction again, and tucked back in to her pancakes, continuing to mumble incoherently under her breath.

“The boarding school was heavily warded for her protection. I believe I should explain this better.” Cas pulled back a little in his chair, his face morphing through a few emotions whilst he figured out what he needed to say, before he ploughed on again.

“A child borne to two vessels is the most perfect of vessels, and is most coveted. It is said that any angel who occupies such a vessel has their own… strengths… remarkably enhanced. What is more, there is no difficulty in inhabiting such a vessel at all.” Cas paused, flicking his gaze over at Sam, then Dean, to see if they were still following. Neither of them moved an inch, so he carried on regardless of their expressions.

“Normally when an angel wishes to inhabit a vessel, they must gain the trust and acceptance of them first, since we are unable to possess them in the same way that a demon would. Although even for demons it is still somewhat problematic without permission, which is why most obtain such permission by coercion. In the case of vessels such as Bea,” he tilted his chin in her direction, “it is about as complex as wearing a jacket.”

Cas looked absently down at his own trenchcoat for a moment, then straight back up.

“So wait,” Sam began, holding out his hand to stop him talking. “It's... 'difficult'? For a demon to inhabit just any old body? Like...they can resist? The vessels?”

“More or less,” Cas allowed, tilting his head. “It can be quite… stressful. To attempt to take over a vessel that is resistant. It can render you weak, and in some cases, temporarily without any strength at all. And this is not true just of demons. Although demons are not Bea's concern,” he added, and it seemed as though he was talking to himself.

Dean's eyebrows shot up, his fork twisting idly at the pancakes on his plate. “Huh?”

“These vessels,” Cas turned to look at Bea for a moment, “We call them The True. They are naturally warded against demon possession.”

“Cas tells me you guys got tattoos,” and Bea sounded vaguely impressed by that.

Dean and Sam nodded, staying silent.

“What, no flashing?” Bea teased, and choked on her pancakes in laughter as simultaneously Dean and Sam yanked down the collar of their t-shirts to show their tattoos, neither dropping their eyes from hers.

Bea took a gulp of coffee to clear her throat, grinning at them both wolfishly.

“The True are incredibly valuable to angels,” Cas pressed on, shooting Bea a look that suggested he didn’t understand why that was so, not with her current behaviour. “They are always the preferred vessel of angels, and as such they have historically often been at the centre of much conflict. Over time, there have been less and less of them. Bea is the only one to walk the earth at this current time.”

“That's a little hard to believe,” Dean gave, shaking his head.

“Dean.” Cas leaned forward a little as though it was vital he made his point clear. “It is virtually impossible for two vessels being inhabited by angels – or demons, for that matter – to conceive a child. It is an incredibly rare event. The last surviving True died in 1957 in Hawaii. In a surfing accident,” he added, somewhat unnecessarily.

“Volcanic archipelago off the west coast of the Gulf of California,” Bea said, without missing a beat. “Geography lesson,” she said, nodding to Sam as though she was confirming her suspicions to him.

Sam grinned, but quickly looked down at his plate under Cas’ unamused glare.

“So. How long have you known each other?” Sam asked when he looked up again, his eyes full of interest and darting between Cas and Bea, with about a million questions written there. Dean braced himself for the answer to that question, feeling he wasn’t going to like it in the slightest.

“I have watched over Bea since she reached puberty.”

Bea’s cutlery clattered to her plate and she turned her eyes to him as though he were nothing but a bad smell. “That sounds really, _really_ gross when you say it like that, Cas.” She rolled her eyes then, drumming her fingers on the table.

“Why puberty?” Sam pressed on, clearly still fascinated.

“It is from puberty that The True project.”

“ _Project_? Project what?” Dean asked, sounding every bit out of his depth, as well as completely out of patience.

“It is a... signal, that allows angels to know that a True is present. It is… intoxicating, to some. The draw of power,” and Cas' voice grew grim at that.

“I'm missing something,” Dean said, looking between them and waiting for further explanation.

When Cas looked down uncomfortably, Bea glanced at his bowed head then nodded on his behalf. “Yep. What you're missing is that from as long ago as I can remember, I've been possessed. By angels coming down here ‘on a mission’ to do I don't know what, zapping me all over the place, and half the time not even bothering to take me back 'home',” Bea ended her speech with an air quote so much like Cas’ that for a moment Dean had to suck in a breath to keep himself calm.

“Imagine, if you will, just how much _fun_ it is to end up in the middle of nowhere, as a kid, and not know where you are, or how you got there, or how the hell you're gonna get back,” she laughed, but it lacked even a trace of humour.

“One time,” she said, spearing another piece of pancake before she continued, “I woke up in this shanty town somewhere in Asia, about three seconds from being hit by this old, rattling excuse for a train.” She scoffed a little at the memory. “Another time, I came round in the middle of a field being stared at by the biggest cow I have ever seen. I swear, its face was like _this_ big,” she said, holding her hands out wide in a gesture that spoke of exaggeration.

"Good times,” she added, shoving the pancake in her mouth and chewing absently when no one else said a word.

Dean’s usual protective instincts kicked in at her words, and his face grew a shade softer.

“How’d you get home?” He asked, gripping his fingers around the edge of the table and drumming them there.

Bea shrugged. “I guess I had some sort of angel _tracker._  The school always sent someone. I don’t know how, or who, or whatever. But they always got me back. Eventually,” and her expression clouded over.

Dean wondered what memories she was having at that very moment, and dropped his gaze uncomfortably.

“Sounds… you know how it sounds,” he mumbled. “To a _kid._  How could they do that to a kid?” he asked in horror as he looked over at Cas, knowing he would receive no good answer from him.

“It is not in the nature of angels to distinguish such a thing as child from adult,” Cas gave him, and it was clear from his expression that he found the idea just as distasteful as Dean did.

“It is... _violating,_ Dean. There must have been hundreds of them.” Cas continued, emphasising the word with a sadness that all of them felt, and dropping his tone as though that alone could shield Bea from her own truth.

“967.” Bea says, shrugging a shoulder, attempting to show nonchalance for something she had clearly committed to memory through the sheer revulsion at it all. Cas winced, and Dean took that in with interest; clearly this was a piece of information he had never heard before either. Somehow, that was comforting to him. “I'd say as a rough guess.” She turned to look at Cas then. “964, before you,” then winked.

Cas swallowed uncomfortably under Sam and Dean's joint gaze that swivelled in his direction the second Bea had said those last words.

“He's basically my pimp now,” she gave as an offhand explanation when Cas didn’t speak, her eyes narrowing a touch. And for the first time since they'd all met, Bea looked at Cas as though he was a little more predator than protector.

“I am not comfortable with that term, Bea,” he mumbled, clearly distressed, to which all she could do was laugh in scorn.

“Yeah, well, it's kinda true, isn't it?” And bitterness changed the tone of the conversation entirely, with Sam and Dean feeling like they were very much intruding on a private discussion.

“Bea,” Cas' tone was soft, pleading almost, but she turned her head away to continue speaking, in broken, disjointed sentences with her eyes falling somewhere between where Dean and Sam sat.

“When I hit puberty. There were angels sniffing around me before then anyway, but. All the time. I couldn't leave the school grounds without them… you know. That's why the buildings were so heavily warded. They'd have to entice me outside when I was a little kid, so they could...” and her voice drifted off again, in what was clearly a painful memory.

“So this… power. That the angels gain. From being… you know,” and Dean shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Don’t it make any difference? You being a kid at the time?”

Bea shrugged again. “Guess not. Maybe even worked to their advantage. Luring their… I don’t know… victims… in. I was a cute kid,” and she grinned, but her eyes didn’t match the smile at all.

“I was drawn to the signal, as much as any angel,” Cas picked up the story when he could see she was having difficulty carrying on. “But when I first laid eyes on her, my first, overwhelming urge was to protect her. Even if I have never been able to explain why.”

“You read me bedtime stories,” and she swivelled back to him then with a smile that showed a little forgiveness.

“I did not.” But Cas was smiling as though it was something he also remembered in a good light. Dean’s eyes narrowed a little, and not for the first time, he felt, rightly or wrongly, left out.

“Alright. Not quite. But you did _talk_ to me in my dreams. So, near enough.”

“I wanted to keep you safe,” Cas said softly to her, as though this was something he had to keep trying to make her understand, and would forever try to make her understand, and didn’t care that Dean and Sam were mere inches away to overhear it. “As much as I could. And yet I knew of your importance to-”

“You knew I was useful, let's not get too sentimental.” Bea's tone was unkind, and Cas' expression altered to one of someone who knew the truth of what they were hearing, but did not want to hear it at all.

Bea sighed, relenting a little, nudging against his arm.

“Cas did protect me. He got me this,” and she twisted round, kneeling up in her seat, pulling up her shirt a little to reveal a tattoo at the base of her back. Dean and Sam took in the sigil there, approximately the same size as their own, but with symbols that were unfamiliar to them. “Can you imagine the kind of tattoo artist that did this to a thirteen year old girl?” she laughed, spinning around to sit again.

“So what? The tattoo's a ward, like ours?” Sam asked, wincing at her words and the image it conjured.

“Yes.” Cas said, caution in his voice, and Bea nudged him harder.

Cas pinched his lips together, showing his displeasure before he continued. “It is a special ward that keeps out all angels other than those that are... granted access.”

Dean frowned. “And how exactly are they ‘granted access?’”

“The angel wishing to use The True -” Cas hesitated, “- to occupy Bea, must seek my permission. They can only inhabit her in the presence of my grace. It is why the signal she emits has been… vastly reduced,”

“Pimp,” Bea supplied, as if that explained everything, dipping her head in Cas’ direction.

“So...” And Sam was hesitant, “Since you were thirteen, you've been a vessel... three times? _With_ Cas' permission?”

He turned to Cas for confirmation; Cas nodded, shifting uncomfortably, because Sam’s gaze had transformed into something bordering on disgust.

“And those three times...?” Dean prompted, his tone low, and unyielding.

“Were, I believed, absolutely necessary. And done with Bea's full consent. I would never force you, as you well know,” Cas glanced at each of them then before dropping his eyes to his hands, looking nothing but guilty under their gaze.

“So,” Sam continued, his voice hardening a little more, “964. 964 angels took you over before you were thirteen?” the horror in his voice echoed around the table. "Even before this  _projecting_ thing?"

“Yep. That I kept count of anyway,” Bea confirmed tightly, twisting her fingers over and over in the napkin in her lap.

It was enough to keep them all silent for some time.

“So,” Sam started up again, as though he was trying make absolutely sure he understood what he was hearing. “You two met. When you were what... thirteen?”  
  
Bea nodded in agreement, focusing more on her pancakes than his words.  
  
“Which would have been when?” he carried on, and the question was enough to almost get her attention.  
  
“Wanna ask how old I am, Samuel? No need to be shy about it,” she winked, then laughed at the startled look on Sam's face. “I guess... 1998? That sound right to you?” and she looked over at Cas for confirmation.  
  
Cas tilted his chin a little.  
  
“That's... that's a whole ten years before you knew us,” Dean said quietly, his eyes fixed firmly on Cas, who found he could not look back at him so easily.  
  
“Yes,” was all he said, glancing over at Sam instead.  
  
“So,” Sam said again, leaning forward a little as an idea occurred to him. “That's also ten years before Jimmy,”  
  
Again, Cas nodded but said nothing.  
  
“Ah, Jimmy,” Bea sighed, fondly. “I think I woulda liked Jimmy if I'd have got the chance to meet him.”  
  
Sam raised an eyebrow at her and she shrugged back. “What? I'm curious is all. About what kind of guy would give himself up like that so willingly. For so long,” she added, looking at Cas with a smirk.  
  
“What'd you look like before?” Sam asked, turning his gaze fully to Cas. But Bea answered for him.  
  
“He's always had that crazy hair of his,” she mused, eyes crinkling up in amusement. “You know. Untameable _mess_. But when I first met him? He – I mean I guess... the guy he was _wearing,_ ” she sang out, leaning into Cas gleefully at the uncomfortable huff he let out at her choice of words, “think... brown-haired surfer dude. Long hair kinda down to here,” she said, gesturing just below her shoulder. “Same kinda jawline, always clean shaven. Permanent tan. Always dressed like he'd picked whatever he found first on the floor. Kinda cute, if you like that sorta thing,”  
  
Cas gave out an exasperated huff at that, which did nothing but set Bea off laughing again.  
  
“Aww, don't you worry, Cas. I kinda like the face you're wearing now. Got used to it. Good thing, since it's yours to keep now, right? And besides... your _eyes_ , Cas. I mean,” and Bea shifted in her seat a little, still grinning at him. “You're my brother and all that,” wrinkling her nose up a little at her own words. “So it sounds weird, I get it. But you gotta know how beautiful your eyes are, right?”  
  
“You had... long hair?” Dean asked, tilting his head to one side and staring at Cas open mouthed, as though he was trying to imagine it. “Like... Sam-long hair?”  
  
Cas glanced away from them all, his cheeks flushed. “Yes.”  
  
“I have pictures,” Bea promised, making Cas whirl back round at her in shock.

“What? S’not like you didn’t know that,” she said, all wide-eyed innocence that cracked into a wicked grin instantly.

“Do you think it would be possible to get back to the subject at hand, Bea?” he asked her with such a pointed tone that she winced a little under it.

“Spoil my fun…” she said sulkily, half under her breath.

After a moment, Bea cleared her throat, then sucked in a deep breath as the expression on her face dropped from fun to fear. With a determined set to her jaw, she turned to Cas, and swallowed hard. There was the dullness of resignation in her eyes, and a tremble to her voice when she asked, “So, Cas. Who's my fourth?”

Cas raised an eyebrow in confusion. “Fourth?”

“Yeah. That's why you're here, right? To give someone else a ride of me?”

All three men flinched at her words, and her laugh was cutting. “I mean. I know you come visit me for no good reason but to say _hey_ too sometimes, but...” and she tilted her chin towards Sam and Dean, “If you're bringing _them_ along. Something's up.”

“Bea...” Cas' voice was a little broken, and he nudged back against her. “No, Bea. There is no one wishing to 'occupy' you.” And then he dipped his head, “There are many, I am sure,” he amended, grimacing a little, “But none that I would allow,”

Bea's face relaxed slightly and she looked up at Cas with hopeful affection. “Yeah? Seriously? You just brought me here to meet your friends?”

Cas hesitated, then shook his head, once. “Not quite.”

“Cas...” Dean's tone was nothing but warning, and Cas looked every inch aware he was being hit from all sides.

“I told you that the ward prevents any angel from inhabiting Bea, unless I give my express permission. It is... possible... that in the presence of my grace alone, and with the right spell, that that access would be allowed, regardless of whether I gave permission or not.”

“But...” Bea stuttered out in alarm, and raised a hand to rest on Cas' arm. “But how's your grace gonna ever be separate from you to make that a thing that happens?”

Cas closed his eyes with a soft groan.

“Cas,” Dean barked, and Cas' eyes flew open again.

“I am being hunted, Dean. I believe I am in danger.”

***

 


	2. Chapter 2

Normal diner noise carried on around outside their booth, as though Cas hadn’t just uttered five words that sliced into Dean like a blade. The shock left Dean momentarily speechless, and all he could do was look at the exchange between Cas and Bea as though he was an unknown, uninvolved spectator.

Cas looked over at Bea, eyes imploring. “I brought you to meet them in the hope that they would offer you protection.”

He turned expectantly back to both Sam and Dean with that, and there was a hint of nervousness there, as well as hope. “I would not ask if it were unnecessary.”

“I don't need a babysitter,” Bea pouted, folding her arms tight across her chest in a way that said _sulking_ , but at the same time her face showed nothing but concern for him.

“You're in danger, Cas?” Sam’s voice was horrified.

“You're being _hunted_?” Dean added, needing the confirmation because he was praying he’d heard it wrong, his tone low, and dangerous now that he had eventually found his voice.

Three voices at once, and Cas was bracing his hands against the table and wedging himself back in his seat, wordlessly begging for them to give him room to speak.

He turned first to Bea, more than a little impatient. “I did not say you needed a ‘babysitter’. But Sam and Dean are the only people in the world that I trust, Bea. That I _can_ trust. And I would trust them with your life.”

His words were so sincere that it served to subdue all three of them at once.

“Sam. Dean. I would not ask if there was not genuine risk. My… fondness... for,” and his eyes flicked over at Dean quickly before dropping away as he carried on speaking, “humanity. Has lost me many comrades, and made me a number of enemies. That I rescued you,” he raised his eyes solely to Dean then, staring, “has given… some. The impression that I am a far more powerful angel than I truly am. They believe... that with my grace... and Bea... they would have a weapon. A strength, that they do not currently have.”

“Who? Who's hunting you? We’ll track ‘em down,” Dean bit out, angry with blind enthusiasm to be doing something, his hand clenching hard in a fist that he bumped against the table. “Gotta let us help you, Cas. What do you need?”

Cas shook his head, avoiding eye contact with them all and instead staring down at his hands in his lap. “Their name is not important, Dean. All that is important is that you keep Bea safe. That is all I will ask of you.”

“How much damage'll they do if they get their hands on me?” Bea asked quietly, still leaning into his side.

“I do not know. I do not know what they intend. Only that it is nothing good, for any of us.” Cas reached out a hesitant hand then, curling his fingers in Bea’s under the table, with Dean sucking in a breath at the image that made.

“But I would rather you did not have to be... at the whim of such an angel who would spill the blood of his kin in the hope of power. I would not wish that on you. Or for you,” He leaned in again, smiling softly at her. “I told you I would protect you, Bea, and I aim to continue to do that. And I have grown… to care for you, in all these years. As you already know. And I _will_ protect you, with everything that I have.” Cas’ face became a mask of determination and Dean swallowed thickly to see it.

Bea surprised Cas then by leaning up quickly to kiss him on the forehead, and let out a little laugh at his expression. “You're kinda sweet, you know? Annoying. Real annoying. Still a _pimp_.” She said, bumping his arm to show him she was teasing when his face became pained. “But. Best sort-of-brother a girl could ask for. Even if you _won't_ show me your wings,” she winked at him, smiling.

Dean shifted a little in his seat, clambering for attention and cursing himself internally for it at how ridiculous it made him feel. “I've seen his wings,” he threw in to the conversation in a bluster, looking between them both expectantly as though he was waiting for some kind of prize, or at least acknowledgement. All while inside his head continued a cruel loop of words taunting him, about so many things about Cas.

“Oh really.” Bea took a really long look at Dean then, before dragging an equally long glance from him across to Cas, and her face transformed into something of a disbelieving smirk.

“What?” Dean demanded, but Bea did nothing but shrug, still smiling.

Sam flicked Dean the smallest of looks, to which Dean nodded. “Of course. Bea, you're welcome to tag along with us-”

“What about my work?” she demanded, eyes firmly fixed on Cas.

“What do you do?” Sam asked, clearly intrigued. Beside him, Dean rolled his eyes, but he was just as curious himself if he was honest, even if he did feel utter frustration that they kept going off topic from the very frightening thought of Cas being somehow at risk.

Bea tilted her head to the side, and Dean swallowed again at how much the mannerism reminded him of Cas. He’d known this woman less than a morning, and already she’d crashed and burned through his world, leaving carnage in the shape of the sudden realisation that there was so much more to Cas than he knew. It raised all his mixed up feelings for Cas to the surface, in a way that told him they would have to be acknowledged some time soon if he didn’t want to drive himself insane.

“...stuff.” was all Bea came up with, and her eyes shifted to Dean, intently watching him as though looking for something. Dean forced himself not to squirm under her gaze.

“Bea researches,” Cas gave them warmly, looking at her with undisguised pride, “Many things.”

When it looked like there was going to be no further explanation, Sam cleared his throat, and fidgeted in his seat. “You mentioned an autoclave,” he said, glancing at Cas, but Bea answered for him instead.

“I'm currently working on a CO2 solubility model. Looking into the effect of greenhouse gas capture on the atmosphere, and the impact on its composition.”

“Geek,” Dean mumbled, despite finding himself interested and wanting to know more, then reprimanding himself yet again that this was not the time to be getting distracted by anything.

“You got some other planet to live on, Dean, when we've finished screwing this one up?” she asked with an arch to her voice. Dean held his hands up in mock surrender.

Bea turned back to face Sam. “I freelance. I research a few things under the bracket of environmental science, and collaborate with other scientists on a number of projects. When it suits me,” she added with a wink before dipping her head towards Cas. “One of the perks of being an angelic whore,” she fluttered her eyelashes and smirked, and Cas visibly flinched beside her.

“What?” she asked him innocently, studying him shifting uncomfortably again.

“I dislike that word, Bea.” He chastised her with a heavy sigh.

“Yeah, I know,” she agreed with a short laugh. “As much as you hate hearing it? I hate _being_ it. But you know. You do pay kinda me for my services, Cas.”

“What?” this time it was Sam's appalled voice thrown in Cas’ direction, and Dean’s eyes flew to him in shock.

“It... I-” And Cas grew flustered, not knowing how to answer, shrinking back under the gaze of all of them. Bea took pity eventually, laying a hand on his forearm as if to offer some kind of comfort, and shook her head at Sam with a ghost of a smile that told him to back off.

“Alright. Maybe that’s not quite fair. Cas never gives me anything for… you know…” Bea screwed up her face before carrying on. “Let's just say. The 'church', on behalf of,” and she nodded her head skywards, “keeps me in a lifestyle that makes it easy to do as I please.”

“How's that even work?” Sam asked, highly suspicious.

“I do not know,” Cas admitted, clasping his hands together on the table. “When Bea was born a... fund, I suppose. Was created for her, that seems to be limitless. She does not want for anything. Financially,” he amended hastily, as she shoved an elbow into his side.

“Black credit card. Untraceable. Pays for everything,” she said with a wink in Dean’s direction, trying to gauge his reaction. “Anyway,” she added, sitting back when he remained mostly expressionless, “I'd say I've earned it,” and then she turned her gaze back on Cas. “I don't want to tag along with _anyone_ ,” and she turned the subject on its head. “If you're in danger, Cas, I wanna help too.”

“You _cannot_ , Bea.”

“And _they_ can?” She growled, nodding ahead towards Dean and Sam as though they weren’t an actual part of the conversation.

“Yes. They are hunters, Bea. They... this is what they do. You will be safe with them.”

There was an unspoken conversation between Cas and Bea then that wouldn't have looked out of place between Dean and Sam. Dean wondered what Cas had told her about their world if she didn’t flinch at the word hunter, and immediately set himself off thinking about all the other kinds of things that Cas might have shared with her. He felt sick to his stomach, and let out a low breath to try to ease it.

After a minute or so, Dean could see that Cas had won whatever silent argument they were having when Bea's shoulders dropped reluctantly and she closed her eyes.

“Fine,” she breathed out. “But you tag along with me first. I've got… stuff to do. Before I go anywhere.”

“Let’s just hold up a minute,” Dean said, raising up his hand and asking for quiet, nowhere near ready to be accepting this new problem with the apparent ease that Cas seemed to have. “Bea. You’re welcome with us. So don’t take this the wrong way.” he said, waving a hand in her direction and trying to tell himself that he meant that sincerely.

Bea raised her hands in a way that said she wouldn’t, folding her arms tightly across her chest.

“Cas,” Dean sighed out, eyes imploring. “You show up this morning. With a _sister_ in tow that we’ve never heard anything about. You spin us this… story… about perfect vessels and powers and angels and… stuff. Then drop the bombshell that you’re being _hunted_? And we’re just supposed to what, sit back and let you go it alone?”

“I like this one,” Bea smiled suddenly, leaning in to Cas’ side whilst looking at Dean with what appeared to be newfound affection. Dean didn’t know what to do with that, so instead focused his eyes solely on Cas.

Cas’ face remained as stone. “Yes, Dean. That is exactly what I am asking. We do not have much time for further discussion.”

Dean and Cas stared each other out, with Dean seeking explanation and Cas, understanding. It seemed today that Cas was on a winning streak, since Dean was the first to break, wiping a defeated hand across his face and nodding his reluctant consent.

***

Dean paced back and forth through Bea’s apartment, barely taking the time to glance at his new surroundings, instead growing steadily more wound up with each step he took. Just because he’d relented enough for them to get moving and on their way, did not mean he was ready to drop the subject any time soon.

“Cas. You've gotta let us help you,” he whirled round, when Cas ignored his string of questions and blatantly avoided his gaze.

“You are helping me, Dean.” Cas insisted, shifting a little where he stood. “Bea-”

“That's a given.” Dean waved his words away. There was no getting away from the fact that he was hurt by all of this. Hurt that in all the time he’d known Cas, this huge part of his life he’d kept secret from him. Hurt that he hadn’t seen Cas in weeks, hadn’t heard from him at all aside from a few texts, and that the first time he did get to see him it was because he was in trouble. And hurt, because he’d suddenly been presented with the realisation that not seeing Cas _did_ hurt, because he _wanted_ to see him for no other reason than because he wanted him around.

It made Dean uneasy, and doubtful, and wonder what else he’d missed along the way. As well as stirring up question after question that he needed to answer for himself about Cas.

But now wasn’t the time for his own insecurities, so he sucked it up, forcing himself to carry on.

“Pretty obvious she's family to you. Goes without saying that we look out for her too,” he shrugged, projecting an air of acceptance that he wasn’t really ready to feel, not yet. He bit back all of the words that were clammering to be let free and came to pause in front of Cas, grimacing when he wouldn’t look up at him. “But you. Cas... I don't wanna see you taking any unnecessary risks. It's not... I don't...”

“Dean. I am sure I will be fine.”

“'Sure' isn't certain, Cas. As in, not good enough.”

“Dean. I have a plan. Do not concern yourself.” and Cas’ face was that calm mask he wore when trying to shield Dean from things he didn’t think he needed to know. Dean hated that, and would always hate it. Especially when he knew Cas was doing it to protect him, or others, at the cost of his own safety.

“Don't 'concern myself'?” Dean stepped forward, looking as though he couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing. “Cas,” he tried, his hand flinching by his side as though he wanted to reach out and grip on to him tight. “You know what it's gonna do to me if something happens to you and I didn't help?” he said softly, jumping a little at the way Cas’ eyes shot up.

Dean knew his words were more personal than those he would usually use for Cas, but they were nothing but true, and he thought perhaps a little honesty in the moment might make Cas reconsider. Plus, he found he couldn’t help himself. The thought of anything happening to Cas terrified him; as, he realised then, belatedly, it always had.

Cas smiled, a touch of blush reaching his cheeks. “I have a plan, Dean. I am not 'going in blind'.”

“Gonna tell me this plan?” Dean asked, disbelieving, already knowing the answer to that from Cas’ guarded expression.

“It's… for the best if I do not.”

They stared wordlessly at each other again, until Sam and Bea returned from the laboratory where she'd been working when Cas had picked her up, with Sam keeping up a constant stream of questions even as Dean glanced over in their direction with a raised eyebrow.

“Alright.” Bea clapped her hands together and stood briefly in front of Cas, fingertips resting on his folded arms. “Give me ten minutes to get some stuff together and I'll come with,” she nodded over at Dean, sighing grudgingly up in to the air at no one in particular before turning away quickly on her heel. Sam cast an eye at the awkward way Dean and Cas were glaring at each other and groaned heavily, dreading Dean’s mood following Cas’ departure.

Dean didn’t even notice.

Bea returned quickly, unaware of the tension going on behind her, laden down with a computer bag, backpack and holdall that Sam struggled to help her with. Between them they dumped everything on the sofa before she spun back around to Cas, her eyes suspiciously bright.

“You,” she pointed, the look on her face a mixture of sternness and fear, “If you _dare_ get into trouble... I'm gonna be so mad at you. You hear me?” And with that she threw her arms around him and hugged him tight. The sob that she had carefully held back up until then was still audible, and Cas hugged her back, kissing the top of her head, staring at Dean over it with an unspoken question, and promise. And with a nod to both Dean, and Sam, he twisted out of her arms, cupped a hand to her face with a gentle smile, and vanished.

The three of them stared at the spot Cas had just been standing in for the longest time, each with their own thoughts simmering and no word that they could get out.

Bea was the first to break the silence, her voice shaking in mock enthusiasm as she knocked her arm against Dean’s.

“Juice?”

***

  


@deankissedcasunderthemistletoe


	3. Chapter 3

It had taken less than a day for Bea to get herself established in the bunker.

She had chosen a room a couple of doors down from Sam’s, pacing out the distance between her room and the shower block, before stumbling her way back with a hand over her eyes, reaching out blindly with the other.

“Uh… whattya doing?” Sam had asked, steering her away from yet another wall.

“Practicing,” came her mumbled reply. “Case you two forget you’ve got company. Don’t want no naked surprises, do I?”

On her first tour of the entire premises, Bea had declared the place creepy as hell, and said she doubted she’d ever sleep again. But she was so impressed by the speed of the internet that all was quickly forgiven.

Bea hid how nervous she was about these new surroundings, and her fear for Cas, by giving off an air of being at complete ease, and she couldn’t tell if Sam and Dean bought the act or not. She doubted it, but continued it anyway because she was lost for what else to do.

The first night, Bea spent the longest time just staring pointedly at Dean, while he stared suspiciously back at her with his guard up. Sam looked between them in bafflement, but when Dean started interrogating her for information about Cas, and she did exactly the same back at him, Sam’s face softened into an expression of understanding that gazed mournfully at Dean, and uncertainly at Bea.

Abruptly, Dean scraped back his chair and stamped towards the kitchen, returning moments later with three glasses and a mostly full bottle of whiskey. If his hope was to intimidate Bea with the way he knocked back his drink, he was in for disappointment. She matched him, glass for glass, as Sam could do little but look on incredulously at them both, swirling his own still-full glass in his fingers.

“Out with it.” Bea barked out all of a sudden, glowering at Dean as her hand curled white around her glass.

Dean grunted, reaching over to refill it, shaking his head.

“I’m not… I’ve done nothing  _ wrong  _ here, Dean,” she said, raising the glass to her lips and swallowing its contents straight down without breaking eye contact. “I know this must be strange for you-”

“Got that right,” Dean agreed, angrily, and finally feeling free enough to show it.

“Hey. I didn’t ask to be kept secret, okay? And I only found out about you by accident anyway. It’s not like I was  _ in  _ on this.”

“‘By accident’?”

“Yeah, by accident.” she said, making a grabby hands motion for the bottle which Dean slid towards her without a second thought. “He left his phone on the table. Your name came up. I asked about it. Told me nothing for ages. But I’m nothing if not persistent,” she smiled, and Dean’s eyes narrowed a little more.

“What’d he tell you?”

“Oh,” she sighed, swallowing down another glass, “only that you’re his two favourite people in the entire world - and that you’ve saved it, like, a hundred times or something.” Bea shrugged, but Sam could see her guards coming up as well. “Kinda hard to find out about you too, you know,” she added softly.

Dean thought about that for a moment, dropping his glare a touch. “Guess so.”

“Truth is? If it meant that…” and Bea sighed, reaching for the bottle again. “I guess I’d prefer not to have  _ had  _ to have met you. Like this, at least. I’d rather be blissfully ignorant, and curious about the fabulous  _ Winchesters  _ from afar, and never have met you at all, if it meant he wasn’t in any kind of danger. I’d prefer that than anything else,” she told him honestly, worry evident in her voice.

Dean stared at her silently for what to Sam felt like too long, but eventually he nodded once, and long, and reached out for the bottle again. “Yeah,” he agreed, refilling their glasses with the last of the whiskey.

“I get the impression you’ve seen him go through… a lot of stuff that I’d probably have nightmares just hearing about, huh?” Bea asked carefully, pausing with the glass just an inch from her mouth.

“Yeah,” Dean laughed humorlessly. “You could say that,”

“Then tell me,” Bea said anxiously, throwing back her drink. “How do you just… sit back and watch? When he won’t let you help?” Bea’s voice caught a little and fear washed over her face, making Sam reach out and rest a comforting hand on her back. “How’d you get through it?” she whispered, eyes imploring Dean for an answer.

Dean stared right on back, his own face morphing in a mixture of emotions. “You just… you just have to. Don’t get much of a choice in it,” he told her finally, admitting as much as he could do, how hard that was for him, each and every time.

Bea allowed herself to breathe out shakily, pressing the back of her hand against her mouth to steady herself as she fought for control. With the same hand, she shakily reached over to Dean, resting it there after a little hesitation on his arm. “Then… I guess we just.. do our best, right? I promise you… I’m not… I’m not taking anything away from you here.”

Sam’s eyes grew wide at her words, searching for some kind of hidden meaning. Whatever she was trying to say though, Dean seemed to take at face value, with his eyes dropping down to her hand, and slowly reaching over to cover it, squeezing it a little in reassurance.

When he looked back up at her, it seemed to Sam that Dean had found whatever it was that he had been searching for all evening, and he nodded again, dropping his guard back enough to flick Bea the briefest of smiles.

Sam continued to watch the exchange between them in silence, eyes lingering on Dean and wishing he could read what he was thinking.

***

Within a week, they’d established a surprisingly easy routine between them as they slowly built up a little trust in one another. By day they would set up laptops on the main bunker tables, the clattering of keys occasionally interrupted with curious questions about what each of them was doing, or by cups of coffee being pushed in front of them.

More than once, Bea drifted over to where Sam and Dean were researching, eyes growing wide and disbelieving at some of the articles she saw over their shoulders. Her eyes grew even wider when mid week, Dean and Sam had headed out for a hunt, and when they returned weary and late in the night, or early morning, they found that Bea had left them plates of food on the table along with sarcastic notes about her not being their housekeeper.

Bea and Dean took it in turns to cook when the three of them were together, and Sam was assigned to cleaning up duty because he couldn’t be trusted with preparing anything. “Get that  _ abomination  _ out of my - your - kitchen,” Bea had seethed at Dean one evening, pointing at Sam with an accusing spatula as she rescued a frying pan with something black stuck to its base. Sam backed away in surrender, unable to keep from laughing.

After a fortnight, Bea declared that she needed exercise. Sam had tried to convince her to join him running, and she’d looked at him in such disdain that Dean had to resist the urge to hug her right there and then.

When instead of taking up Sam’s offer she’d disappeared into one of the empty rooms with a laptop, telling them not to follow under any circumstances, they did the exact opposite.

Standing side by side on the other side of the door, they looked at each other in amusement, listening to the loud music wafting through it that was interrupted only by strange grunting sounds that they didn’t know what to make of. When she walked back through, drenched in sweat an hour later, Dean watched the way Sam’s eyes widened at seeing her like that and fought back a grin.

To celebrate her one month of staying at the bunker, following an impressive amount of alcohol Bea had convinced them to play hide and seek. It might have been one of the most ridiculous - and funniest nights they’d ever spent there, with Dean doubled over in laughter as Bea jumped out on Sam unexpectedly and actually managed to startle him enough to make him stumble over and crash to the floor.

Bea hadn’t even apologised for making him fall. She just stood straddled over him, arms raised, victorious, and cheering at Dean, which Sam seemed to take nothing but offence to. He grabbed her legs and pulled her down on top of him, laughing at the squeak she let out as she landed with a thud. Dean found himself smiling all over again at the way they breathlessly stared at one another, clearing his throat after watching for a few minutes to get their attention.

 

On the days when Dean and Sam didn’t return, Bea found herself wandering the halls and absently picking up unfamiliar texts, giving herself nightmares about monsters that, at least according to the pages in front of her, were all very real indeed. It was surreal, mixing her own, relatively simple world, with this one, looking up from her laptop where she analysed and interpreted data to where Sam wandered through with ingredients for a spell, absently mumbling the words for it under his breath.

***

Reluctantly, Dean found himself liking Bea, a lot, the more that he got to know her. She had an answer for everything, would argue just for the sake of it, and was more than happy to indulge in singing along with him to random YouTube videos long after Sam had given up on them both and gone to bed.

Bea was also grouchy in the morning before coffee, just like him, answering in nothing but grunts until she’d had a minimum of two cups. Sam learned quickly that together they were a grumpy force to be reckoned with first thing, knowing not to approach either of them without ample amounts of caffeine to hand.

The thing that made Dean happiest, and most frustrated about Bea, was inevitably, Cas.

So many of Bea’s mannerisms reminded Dean of Cas, that it was hard not to think of her as his actual flesh and blood sibling instead of an unusually adopted sister. Sometimes she did something so Cas-like that it froze Dean to the spot, setting off a string of thoughts that left him torturing himself with how much time Cas and Bea must have spent together for her to be able to mimic him so closely and unconsciously.

Bea told them story after story about Cas, that Dean knew damn well he would never hear directly from Cas himself. Bea gleefully regaled them with ‘Cas facts’ as often as she could, delighting in watching Cas squirm as she did. Dean discovered that he loved the way Cas’ cheeks coloured at her words, or he let out these frustrated little huffs whilst scowling at Bea, leaving Dean smiling to himself in memory long after Cas had left.

Dean’s favourite thing about Bea of all, of course, was that he got to actually see Cas more often than he thought he ever had before. With Cas dropping in at random every few days to check on Bea, Dean was torn between watching reservedly as Bea’s face lit up with delight at seeing him, and feeling the strangest sense of wholeness that he’d never before acknowledged lacking when Cas wasn’t around.

Seeing Cas in his previously-unknown role of brother was a constant source of surprise to Dean. Cas did it with such perfection in the way he teased, taunted and talked to Bea as though she was equal parts precious and precocious, that it was a stark reminder to Dean that he’d been doing it for years, without him ever knowing.

Every single thing that Dean learned about Cas just left him wanting more, despite not being able to define what he really meant by that, or even what  _ more  _ would entail. All he did know for sure was that every time Cas showed up, it raised more and more questions for him, leaving him feeling constantly on edge.

What tipped Dean over the edge, chasing away the last tendrils of doubt about his feelings for Cas, came from the most unexpected of places. On one particular visit, Bea had persuaded Cas to read to them, telling Dean with certainty that Cas could read the phone book and his tone of voice would send even the fussiest of babies to sleep.

In their case, the fussy baby was Sam, who drifted off with an unceremonious thud down on Bea’s shoulder, oblivious to the photos she took of him at an awkward angle where he slept.

Dean found that listening to Cas' gravelly tone had an entirely different effect on him than making him tired, shifting increasingly uncomfortably as his jeans grew tighter and tighter. He realised with perfect clarity then, as well as with a touch of  _ you moron  _ to his thoughts, that what he felt for Cas was so far past friendship that he’d clearly been kidding himself otherwise for years.

Alone in his room that night, Dean found himself replaying conversation after conversation that he’d had with Cas, looking for any small indication that Cas might be aware of what he’d so far been denying to himself. When he found nothing, frustration wasn’t kind enough to even let him try to fall asleep.

His hands drifted down over his stomach and eventually into his boxers, hooking his thumbs over the waistband and letting himself spring free. With an awkward swallow, Dean finally allowed himself to think of Cas as he really wanted to, conjuring up the sinful images he’d always fought against and up until then tried to push away. With a frantic pace he worked himself, gasping and writhing in his own hand, with Cas’ name escaping from his lips as he came.

***

  
  
  



	4. Chapter 4

“You ever gonna tell me what’s going on with all this?”

Dean bit down on his lip in hope, watching Cas watching Bea by his side.

So far, Cas had adamantly avoided talking about what he was running from, or where he disappeared to when he went, despite Dean asking each and every time he visited. Dean would be ignorant if he didn’t notice that with each arrival at the bunker Cas looked more and more haggard, and it had Dean’s hands itching to touching him, to attempt to offer any sort of comfort.

Cas continued watching Bea, who was leaning over a weapon Sam was cleaning, offering nothing but a stream of pointless commentary that had him laughing in exasperation. Cas’ mouth twitched briefly into a smile at what he saw, before he glanced briefly back at Dean, quickly looking away again in guilt.

“I have told you all that is necessary for you to know. Bea needs protecting,” he sighed, watching out of the corner of his eye as Dean shifted closer to him. He’d given the same answer every single time Dean had asked it, even though he’d been hearing it for weeks on end.

“And you’re in danger,” Dean pressed on.

“Yes.” Cas confirmed coolly.

“Any updates? Found anything out at all? Gotta give me something, man,” Dean pleaded, looking as Cas pursed his lips and glanced away.

“I have discovered that his-”

“‘His’?” Dean said, a hand out to nudge against Cas’ arm, holding his breath at Cas’ slip and praying for a breakthrough.

“His plan. The angel. Kushiel,” Cas added, slumping back a little against the couch in defeat. Cas let out a barely audible groan, silently berating himself for revealing anything at all. But he knew Dean; and with even just this small piece of information he knew he wouldn’t let go of it.

Perhaps having a little help might be a good thing, he reasoned with himself, as though he really had any kind of choice in the matter. He knew that look Dean was giving him far too well to think otherwise.

“Don’t know that one,” Dean admitted, slowly leaning back against the couch himself and letting his arm bump against Cas’. His face revealed nothing, but his heart gave out a thready beat at the contact, setting off a course of very inappropriate thoughts that Dean had to put a stop to so he could concentrate enough to listen to what Cas was actually telling him.

Cas licked his lips briefly and Dean’s eyes darted down to them instantly, then up, wide, relieved that Cas hadn’t seemed to notice. “In your mythology, Kushiel is one of seven angels of punishment. There are legends about him bringing retribution to entire nations with a whip made of fire.”

“How close to the truth is that?” Dean asked, not liking this story at all, but definitely enjoying the way Cas didn’t move away from his side as he told it.

“It was no whip,” was all Cas gave him, and his face grew even more troubled. “He believes that humanity is to blame for the… unrest. The lack of balance amongst the angels. And that I share in part of that blame,” Cas looked down at his hands, and Dean felt Cas’ shoulder slump against his. “Which is, of course, true,” he added, defeat evident in his voice.

“Hey,” Dean bumped his shoulder back, taking whatever form of contact he could get from Cas. “None of that ‘blaming yourself for everything’ crap again, okay? Let’s… figure this problem out that we’ve got right in front of us right now, okay?”

Cas nodded, his jaw set grimly. “Kushiel believes that by possessing Bea, he will unlock power that will enable him to wipe out not mere nations, but the entire planet.”

Dean rolled his eyes and groaned. “Man, what’s with all the apocalypses? You guys not got Netflix up there yet? Or anything else better to do?”

For a brief second, Cas’ lips twitched in amusement. “I believe not. It is some time since I have been back. And I do not anticipate that I will ever be welcome again to find out for myself.”

Dean sighed again, pressing himself a little more against Cas’ arm to show solidarity, and lingering there because of the comfort his closeness gave him. “So what are our options?”

Cas shrugged wearily. “I do not know. I have been researching a… way. To hide Bea’s projection. To prevent her from being a True. To do… anything, to help.” Cas sighed heavily, and Dean felt his heart thud at the way Cas leaned willingly back against him. “So far I have found nothing.”

“We can help you look,” Dean offered, and Cas nodded heavily in reluctant agreement, which Dean internally sighed at in relief.

Cas wanted to protest against that, but found he couldn’t, not with the way Dean was staring at him so earnestly, or with the warmth of his arm against his. “I would appreciate that, Dean. However I do not hold much hope of your finding information held by the Men of Letters about this.”

“We’ll figure something out.”

Cas nodded again, closing his eyes.

“Let me ask you something. You probably won’t like it,” Dean added quickly. Cas frowned at him but waited for him to speak, and more importantly for Dean, he didn’t pull away from him.

This closeness was rapidly becoming addictive, and he felt as though he couldn’t stop himself now from pursuing it. “How come… how come he’s not going after Bea directly? I mean… I don’t want that, you know I don’t. But from his perspective… hasn’t she got to be more valuable?”

Cas tilted his head in consideration. “We are both of equal use, but neither Bea nor my grace alone would have the impact that Kushiel is seeking. I can only assume that he does not consider my… affection, for Bea, to be enough to lure me to her should he capture her first. To use her as a bargaining tool. And for that, I must be grateful,” Cas said, in nothing but utter relief.

Dean swallowed thickly, trying not to flinch at the painful twist his stomach gave at Cas’ reply. This was no time for jealousy of any form, even though it furled itself throughout Dean at his words, gripping hold of him and refusing to let go.

“Besides,” Cas laughed softly, looking away and back over at Bea, “I am certain that he would very much enjoy destroying me, atom by atom, before extracting my grace as painfully as possible.”

With a lot of hesitation, Dean reached out his hand to squeeze Cas’ where it laid on his lap. “We won’t let that happen, Cas.”

Cas looked down at their hands and smiled, letting Dean’s thumb fall in between his own thumb and finger so he could squeeze it back and hold it there, nodding slightly.

Dean absently rubbed that same spot on his hand long after Cas had left them again.

***

After two months, Bea had announced she was going home.

Cas had been furious, winging in to glare at her as she unpacked in her apartment whilst she'd blatantly refused to go back to the bunker.

There had been no falling out between them, but to Bea there just hadn’t felt like there was any need for her to stay. Nothing remotely threatening had come her way once since Cas’ initial departure, and she had grown blasé to the danger, itching to get on with her own way of life. Bea's apartment was less than two hours north of the bunker, so she had argued that it was commutable. Manageable there and back in a day, to her it was the perfect solution, and in her eyes at least, that was the end of the argument.

Cas had dropped into the bunker minutes later still fuming, and Dean listened to Cas' complaints about Bea with all the understanding that another older brother had to have.

“I don’t know what to do with her,” Cas said, exasperated, running an uncharacteristically shaky hand through his hair.

“She’ll be okay, Cas. We’ll keep an eye,” Dean promised him, giving in to what had become the usual temptation to touch him by resting a hand on his arm. The urge to reach out to Cas continued growing steadily, with Dean less and less able to resist, whilst wanting more and more.

Not for the first time, Dean wondered what Cas was thinking as he reached out to touch him, or if he had even noticed. Cas’ face, of course, gave away nothing, still seething away at Bea and her decisions.

“She does not appreciate the danger she is in, Dean.” Cas said, barely hearing Dean’s attempt at reassurance although absently covering Dean’s hand with his own. “She does not understand. Despite everything.”

“Probably just wants a normal life, Cas. You’d want that for her, if you could, right? Same as I’d want for Sam. I know I still see him as a kid… it’s hard,” he sighed, shrugging in understanding.

“But she cannot have a normal life, Dean,” Cas implored, squeezing Dean’s hand a little as though it wasn’t a conscious thought. “Not with what she is. It does not matter what I want for her. She does not have a choice.”

Cas looked so forlorn, and lost in that moment, that without any further hesitation - or possible restraint - Dean pulled him in for a tight hug. Cas surprised him by instantly leaning into it, as though it was the very thing he had been waiting for. Dean’s heart thudded with longing, and want, even though his head told him to do no such thing.

With coaxing and some very persuasive pleading, Dean managed to get Cas to stay a little longer, forcing a beer on him that he drank although he couldn’t taste it. Cas’ acceptance to sticking around in that moment made Dean brave, and he found the question he’d most been wanting an answer to escaping from his mouth unchecked.

“Why'd you keep her secret from me, Cas?” Dean blurted out, playing with the label of his bottle as Cas shrugged. Dean held his breath, bracing for all manner of answers that he really, really didn’t think he wanted to hear.

“Because, Dean. If I had told you I had someone important to me, you would have gone out of your way to care for them when I could not. I did not want to make you feel responsible for something you are not. Until I had to,” he added, rolling his eyes at himself.

Dean allowed himself to breath out, feeling relief for things he didn’t even know he had been fearing. “Kinda sucked finding out like that,” Dean admitted, avoiding Cas’ eyes still. “Kinda felt like maybe I didn’t know you at all.”

Cas smiled at him then, and it was warm, and amused. “Dean. You cannot possibly know everything about me. It would take too long to tell you. And I suspect there is much I do not know of you as well. But you do probably know me better than anyone else ever has. Or will,”

Dean let his eyes fall closed at that, felt a thud of something else at Cas’ words. With a hefty sigh, he pushed his bottle back across the table and gripped his hands around the table edge. “Okay. But from now on. No more secrets, Cas. Can we do that?” He looked over at Cas with a tired smile. “Don’t think I can take any more secrets from anyone. Least of all you.”

Cas looked at him thoughtfully for a moment, as though he was debating how best to tell Dean he couldn’t give what he was asking for. But then he bowed his head as though in agreement. “If it is within my power to tell you, then I will tell you all that I can. I ask that you do the same for me,” he added, holding Dean’s gaze in a way that made his throat dry out awkwardly.

Dean held his breath for a moment then reached out to grip his bottle, clinking it against Cas’.

“Agreed.”

***

Sam, Dean and Bea continued to get on well, especially for three people thrown together by an almost entirely absent third party. Despite Bea leaving, they regularly made time to visit, with Bea preferring when they came to her apartment because she still maintained that the bunker was too big, and like the set of a crappy teen horror film.

The three of them even had a Whatsapp group that Bea had named Cas Angeles, which only she found hysterically funny. And Dean knowingly grinned at Sam every time he heard him cackling in laughter, squatting down beside him to wave at Bea as Sam spoke to her on Skype. He'd seen the way Sam pulled towards her like a magnet, and the way he thought she was drawn likewise to Sam. He liked it, and he loved that it was something to tease Sam about at every opportunity.

On a sleepy Sunday a few months after their first meeting, Sam and Dean had driven up to spend the day with her. They were just settling down to eat a meal that made Dean’s mouth water just looking at it, when his phone vibrated in his pocket and he pulled it out with a reluctant groan. Sam watched his face pinch, and starting eating faster in the way he always did when they'd been pulled on an impromptu case.

Bea sat watching him in amusement, pausing to rest her knife and fork against her plate. “Hungry, Samuel?” she asked, knowing it was a completely unnecessary remark from the way he stuffed more and more food into his mouth with no let up.

“Got a case,” Dean sighed, looking forlornly at his food, shovelling in as much as he could too, as he indicated for Sam to get ready.

“You're leaving now?” Bea demanded, scraping the fork against her plate in disapproval.  
Dean winced at the sound, bringing his hands up to plead apologies on behalf of them both. “Yeah. Sorry, Bea. Vamp nest that needs taking care of. Actually not too far from here. It’s why they called… our ‘patch’, you know?” he added, gathering himself together and taking a last mouthful of food that he swallowed hastily with a huff of approval at the taste.

“Vamp nest. As in... vampires?” Bea's voice pitched in excitement, and Dean glared. “Not the smouldering ones on True Blood, Bea. Real ones. With pointy teeth and a blood lust.”

“Can I come along? Watch?” Bea begged, bristling with anticipation.

“No.” Sam was adamant, jumping up and collecting things together alongside Dean, stacking their almost empty plates on the side in Bea’s kitchen as he went.

“No?” She repeated, angry, standing and placing her hands on her hips in indignance as though she didn’t believe what she was hearing.

“No. It's not safe.” Sam said, coming to a halt in front of her, and Dean clapped a hand firmly on his shoulder, backing him up completely.

“And Cas'll kill us,” Dean added, trying to help when she wouldn’t budge, but it only seemed to be making things worse.

“Cas,” she spat, then tapped her fingers against her lips in a very Cas-like move which had Dean stopping in his tracks momentarily.

“Well look at it this way,” she said, attempting to sound reasonable. “You don't take me with you, I'm just gonna follow you in my own car. Who knows what'll happen to me then?”

Dean stared at her then as though he was now the one struggling to believe what he was hearing.

“I’m fast. I’ll catch up with you, even if you try and lose me,” she promised, staring him down with a look that told him she knew she’d already won.

Which was how Bea found herself in the back of the Impala, positively bouncing with enthusiasm.

And how Cas appeared out of nowhere beside her, positively seething at them all.

Dean felt a flutter in his chest that Cas had showed up at all, and did his best not to show it.

Cas did all but tie Bea to the back seat, leaving her peering through the window like an abandoned puppy as the three of them unloaded weapons from the car and crept into the building where the nest was supposed to be.

Bea snuck after them, giddy with excitement for what she thought she was about to see.

And what she did see made her want to turn and run, far and fast.

She watched Cas, Dean and Sam as they simultaneously took out as many sleeping vampires as they could without disturbing the rest; quick, precise slices through them unaware, as though killing was as easy to them as breathing.

As they woke, the vampires were understandably furious, and Bea let out an involuntary gasp that drew their attention her, cursing herself under her breath for being that girl.

It was utter chaos.

There were so many vampires in this nest, so many more than they'd anticipated, that even with their experience they were in danger of being overwhelmed. They were slicing, slashing and kicking as much and as hard as the three of them could manage, with Cas using his angel strength as much as his fists, yelling in sheer fury at Bea to get away, or stay back.

Bea was frozen solid to the spot until one of the vampires got too close. Which was when Dean and Sam learned something else about Bea that they’d so far been in the dark about.

Bea was clearly familiar with some kind of martial arts. Because the way she ducked, dived and kicked her way free showed a level of skill that only those who have had a lot of practice could demonstrate. She deftly leapt her way across the floor just out of reach, until Cas roughly grabbed her and shoved her behind him, continuing the fight whilst shielding her as best he could.

None of them noticed that she was crying.

They were winning though, turning the corner of the battle with less and less vampires fighting back, and a few of them running off when they knew they were outmatched. It was as Dean sliced off a head, sending it spinning past Bea with a brutal force, that she let out a choppy, gasping breath and sank to the floor in a heap.

All three of them flew to her as one, and she scrabbled away like a tortured animal.

“Don't touch me! None of you! She yelled, brokenly, eyes wide and hands out to push them away.

Dean shot Sam a look, and between them they made quick work of killing the remaining few vampires left.

“They're gone now, Bea. You're okay,” Sam promised as he knelt down to her, breathless. But all Bea did was shrink back from him, slipping away from his grasp in a way that had him withdrawing his hand, stunned by her reaction.

“Bea-” Cas started, and suddenly she was on her feet and running again. Cas had to leap up to follow her, and wrapped his arms tightly around her middle, pulling her tightly against his chest to stop her trying to disappear as she thrashed and writhed to get her freedom.

When she went limp in his arms, he loosened his grip a touch, and she pushed him away with as much force as she could manage, rubbing her wrist in protest at the pain that shot through it when she did.

“They were sleeping,” she managed to choke out eventually, breathing hard, eyes wide and unseeing.

“The vamps? Sure. It's best if they're sleeping, keeps them docile for a bit longer,” Dean shrugged, but stopped deadly still at the look on her face.

“You butchered them,” she whispered in horror, looking at the three of them as though she had never seen any of them before.

***

“Bea,” Sam tried once more, “They're vampires. They would have killed, or turned people.”

“Exactly!” she screamed, eyes growing wide as she broke free again, only for Cas to grab her by the wrist and hold on hard. Bea wailed out causing Cas to release his grip a little, rubbing his fingers worriedly over the skin there, fearing that he had caused her actual pain. But the noise that had escaped from her throat was one not of pain, but of anguish, with Bea unable to process what she had just seen in any coherent way.

“Exactly,” she breathed again when she eventually found her voice. “Turn. They were people once. You just killed a load of people. How is that okay?”

Dean and Sam glanced at each other uncomfortably, their eyes dark, and full of unspoken guilt.

Sometimes it took an outsider to, if not humanise them again, then remind them that most of the monsters they killed had once been flesh and blood like them. The truth of her words rang out, making each feel discomfort that they normally wouldn't, or had suppressed deep enough through constant practice for them to be able to ignore.

“Look. I get it, okay? I get it,” Dean tried, stepping forwards with his hands out wide to show he was no threat. “But once they're turned... they're not people anymore, Bea. We've met maybe one... two vampires in our time that haven't been bloodsuckers, and even them?” His hands fell heavily to his sides. “Even they couldn't fight the blood lust, not really. There's no going back, Bea. I promise you that. Once you turn vamp, you stay vamp.”

It still took several more attempts to get Bea to agree to move, with Cas scooping her up into her arms while she stared emptily ahead. He clicked her seatbelt into place and gripped a hand around her shoulder; Bea didn’t even acknowledge he was there.

With a fearful glance at Dean, who could do nothing but shrug helplessly back at him, Cas slid in beside her and wrapped Bea’s unmoving fingers in his.

Dean glanced back at him once in the rear view mirror as he started the engine, his breath catching at the concern he saw there on Cas’ face. Sam turned in his seat to look at Bea but she saw nothing, eyes fixed unseeingly on the back of Dean’s headrest.

The silence in the car on the drive back to Bea’s apartment was deafening.

***


	5. Chapter 5

“You’re not safe here.”

Bea’s tone was dull, and Cas continued hovering over her anxiously, despite feeling relief that she was finally saying anything at all. It had been a week since the vampire nest, and Bea had refused to even look at him, or answer a single call or message from Dean or Sam, in spite of how persistent they had been.

“I will be fine.” he replied, carefully, not taking his eyes off her for a second, not now that he’d actually managed to get her to speak.

“No, you won’t. You’re in danger, right? Or did you forget? We both are,” Bea’s voice was flat and without any of her usual colour; it scared Cas more than he thought possible to see her like this.

“Bea,” he begged again with a wavering voice.

Bea shifted away from the hand he’d been reaching towards her to provide some comfort, and he dropped it back down to his side dejectedly.

“What.”

Cas huffed a little to himself, frustrated at his inability to fix things. “What can I say to make you understand?”

Bea glanced up at him for a fraction of a second, and Cas sucked in a hard breath at how broken she truly looked. “Nothing.”

“Bea,” and Cas’ was pleading now as he sat down on the edge of the couch next to her, tucking in the blanket that covered her legs a little more tightly. “You already knew this. That this life that we lead. It is not easy,” he began.

“Yeah I knew that. How could I not know that, Cas, huh?” Bea closed her eyes. “You think I don’t remember seeing this stuff happening, through my own eyes, at my ownhands? It’s been a while, Cas,” she laughed coldly. “But it’s not like something I can forget,”

Cas did not like the reminder of all that Bea would have seen as an unwilling vessel, but it was there written clearly across her face, and he couldn’t avoid it. That Bea could not differentiate between whoever her possessors had killed, and those vampires whose deaths had brought about this catatonic state of hers, was only testament to how much more human she was than the rest of them. So much better, and deserving, of a life that was anything but this.

Cas ached for her innocence then, truly appreciating all the she had been through, and wanting nothing more than to shield her from this harsh existence of theirs.

Cas questioned his actions over again, sighing at his inability to make everything right. With a wary grimace, he once more reached out a hand to rest on her arm, and this time she didn’t flinch away, which Cas chose to take as a good sign.

“I am sorry, Bea.” he tried, holding his breath and hoping that she’d speak.

“Guess I shoulda stayed in the car, huh?” she managed brokenly. And with that, a sob burst out of her, and she was leaning forward an instant later, pressing herself firmly into his arms. Cas did his best to soothe her, rocking her gently side to side, and letting her cry until she was all out of tears.

“They were people, Cas. Just people,” She hiccuped once more, wringing her fingers tightly together against his back, head resting on his shoulder.

Cas pulled back to look at her, keeping a firm grip on her arms. “Yes. They were, once.”

“ I did that. Once. More than once,” she trembled, and Cas hooked a finger under her chin, pushing it up so that she would have to look at him.

“That was not you, Bea. That was whoever was… using you, doing that. Not you,” Cas leaned down to kiss her cheek, resting his head there and sighing at the way she shook against him. “This life, Bea. It is not easy. But it can be a good one. Sam and Dean-”

“I know this isn’t their fault,” She rolled her eyes, cutting him off. “You don’t need to defend them.”

“I wasn’t about to defend them.” he protested, but Bea huffed out in a way that told him she clearly didn’t believe that for a second.  

“Would you please allow them to take care of you?” Cas pleaded then, and Bea groaned. “They are worried, Bea. As am I,”

“I don’t need looking after, Cas.”

“Clearly you do,” Cas disagreed, shaking her lightly to make her look at him. “Bea. Your reaction to the… vampires. It clearly shows you are not ready for this. For any of this. But you must be ready. You must. If something happens to me-”

“Don’t you dare sound like you’re giving up, Cas,” she demanded, her eyes filling with tears again as she gripped hard onto his arms. “Don’t you dare.” She watched him, seething for a moment before glancing away again.

“I am not ‘giving up’. I am trying to make you understand.” which only had Bea closing her eyes and letting her head fall back against him with a soft thud.

“I don’t want to have to understand, Cas. This isn’t my life. I mean, it hasn’t been my life, not really, or not for so long. I don’t think I’ll ever be ready for all this… stuff,” she said, grumbling into his shoulder.

They sat in silence for a while, Cas absently continuing to rock her in his arms so gently that after a while, Bea found herself relaxing properly for the first time in days.

With a press of her forehead against his shoulder, Bea sat back a little, her face pinching in reluctant acceptance. “But it’s not like I was born with a choice, was it? I need to get okay with it, ‘cos it’s not exactly like I’m ever getting out of all this, is it? I just need...” and she wriggled a little to get comfortable, eyes closed but exasperation written clearly across her face. “I don’t know what I need, Cas.” And after another pause, she miserably whispered, “I can’t believe I even reacted like that. I thought I was stronger than that. Like I’d be… prepared or something, you know? I feel so… weak. So stupid,”

Bea sighed again to herself, twisting her fingers in the material of Cas’ trenchcoat. “You know. I didn’t want to believe it. Any of it. Not the monsters, or the constant risk, or that you - you, of all people, could be in danger. And I didn’t believe it, not really. Despite Sam giving me daily ‘Monster 101’,” Bea gave a secret smile at that, and Cas answered it with his own curious one.

“But seeing them… you… that night,” she continued, unrelenting, “It kind of brought it all home. This stuff is real. All of it. And I hate it,” she said in a whisper, shaking her head.

Cas looked lost for something to say, and Bea rolled her eyes again, leaning over to kiss him on the forehead, a tiny spark of her usual self flickering there for a moment. “Can you go, Cas?” She whined. “Please? And before you get all pouty on me,” she smiled weakly, gripping on to his arms so he couldn’t move too far away from her, “I just don’t want you to get caught. Here. Because of me. Sam and Dean, they warded up this place pretty tight but still… it’s nowhere near as defended as the bunker. Much as that place gives me the wiggins.”

Cas smiled, grateful to see her softening a little before him, and that finally, perhaps, she was taking all of this slightly more seriously now. “I cannot agree with you about that,” he told her, tilting his head as though he really was thoroughly considering her statement, “I find that I like the bunker. To me, it feels almost like a home.”

Bea studied him then as though she believed staring hard enough would reveal all of his hidden secrets. Her face twisted briefly into another smile, but otherwise remained blank.

“Nothing to do with a six foot something clean freak who knows the word to every classic rock song out there, huh?” she teased. Cas’ eyes widened in alarm, and Bea was delighted to see a blush flare crimson on his cheeks.

“Dean-” Cas began, not really sure what he was planning on saying.

“Ah,” she said, shaking her head and putting out a hand to stop him. “Forget I said anything,” she grinned.

“I find the bunker-”

“Yeah, yeah, Cas. I get it. I do.” She smiled at him affectionately then, leaning herself against him once again. “Each to their own, Cas. Each to their own… But really. You should go...”

Cas stood unhappily but nodded, eyes already searching off into the distance as though he could see through the literal walls of her apartment building. “Sam and Dean. They plan on coming here today. Since you would not answer your phone,” he couldn’t help but let the accusation leak into his words, and Bea breathed out heavily in response.

“Figures,” was all she said, stretching herself a little, wincing at the cramp in her calves from being sat still for so long. “Guess I’d better make myself presentable. Shower at least,” she said doubtfully, looking down at herself.

  
  


Cas grinned, bending down to kiss her lightly on the top of her head and squeeze a hand around her shoulder. “I will see you soon, Bea.”

“Please be safe,” she asked, staring up at him intently.

Cas smiled sadly, but nodded, staring back at her for a moment before disappearing.

***

Bea looked up at her door and frowned at the knocking rattling on the other side. She knew exactly who it was, and was also pretty sure that if she didn’t go and open the door any time soon, they’d be breaking it in, or down, or whatever it was that they did when they forced entry.

Sighing to herself Bea rose to her feet slowly, drawing the bolt back across the door and twisting the key in the lock with staged carefulness, trying to buy herself some time. Bracing herself, she swung the door open with a sucked in breath, only to be greeted by two large, unimpressed-looking Winchesters glowering down at her.

Bea refused to show that she knew she was in trouble with them both, even if she did tremble a little under their gaze.

Sam wavered first, breaking from his glare after mere seconds, stepping forward in a hurry and grabbing her into a tight hug that knocked the air out of her lungs.

“Careful, Samuel. Not all of us are cavemen,” Bea choked out, and he pulled back just a touch, but didn’t let her free of his arms at all.

“Then answer your damn phone next time, right?” he bit back, scowling down at her although his eyes conveyed nothing but worry.

Sam kept hold of her until Dean slapped a hand against his arm, and he snapped out of it. Pushing Sam to one side, Dean pulled her into his own hug, not holding on nearly half as long, but making sure it was long enough for her to understand the relief that he felt at seeing her okay.

“Do you know what it’s like to have an angel… like… frothing, with anger in a confined space, Bea, huh?” Dean asked, stepping to the side and walking over to her fridge without invitation, helping himself to a beer whilst he poked his way through its contents before closing the door with disinterest.

“Uh, yeah, actually, Dean, I might’ve seen that on more than one occasion. Last time being about an hour or two ago,” Bea replied, watching bemusedly as his eyes flickered unreadably at that. Then he turned, gaze falling on a container on the counter that he flicked the lid off of deftly, diving right in, moaning out in what sounded a lot like ecstasy as he sunk his teeth into one of the cupcakes she’d made to keep her mind - and hands busy over the past few days.

“This is excellent frosting,” he said, thickly, mouth full, cuffing his hand across his mouth messily.

“Sam? Teach your brother to eat like a human?” she said, staring at Dean a little in disgust.

Sam shrugged, nudging past her to join Dean by leaning against the counter, peering down into the box in interest before turning back to her. “Hey. I could say the same to you about your brother.”

That earned him a smile; Bea turned her face up to grin at him, “He do the ‘this tastes like molecules’ thing with you too, huh?”

“All the time,” Dean complained, turning back consideringly to the cupcakes. “Getting better with beer, though. Only says it twice per bottle now. I keep count. Progress,” he added, stealing another cupcake and digging right in.

“You let him drink beer?” Bea asked him, incredulous as she walked up to lean beside him.

“Sure.” Dean shrugged, screwing up and tossing the paper cases into the trash, smacking his lips together in satisfaction. “Why not?”

“It’s a waste, Dean,” she complained, and Sam laughed, nodding his head. “He can’t even taste it.”

“Ever see him drunk?” Dean asked, watching her with glee in his eyes that said he knew something that she didn’t.

Bea arched an eyebrow, shaking her head. “Uh, no? Didn’t think he could get drunk.”

“‘Found a liquor store. I drank it’,” Sam did his best Cas impersonation which had Bea laughing giddily and shaking her head again in disbelief.

“Seriously?”

“Yeah,” Dean laughed, pulling out a chair and slumping down on it. “Told us he was ‘on a bender’,”

“Huh,” Bea said, reaching to take plates out of the cupboard, turning a shrewd eye to Dean as she put three down on the table and a cupcake on each before sitting three bottles of beer beside them. “This I gotta hear,”

***

“So,” Sam started after they’d eaten and the three of them were sat around in her living room, too full to move. “I have questions.”

One cupcake, at least in the case of Sam and Bea, had turned into another, and sandwiches, chips and more beer, leaving them all with mild food comas and comfortably sleepy.

That it had taken Bea less than a few minutes to feel so much better so instantly with their arrival said a lot about how important both Sam and Dean had become to her. She observed them quietly for a moment, Dean’s eyes closing and opening repeatedly, fighting against sleep, which eventually he let himself succumb to it a little with a small yawn. Sam was watching him with an affectionate kind of smirk, and she was so distracted by watching him that she startled a little when he turned his full attention back to her.

“Shoot,” she said, waiting as Sam seemed to be organising what he wanted to say.

“When’d you learn to fight?” he breathed out in a hurry, eyes studying her face as though he didn’t know what kind of reaction to expect.

Bea looked at him curiously. “Fight?”

“Yeah,” Sam nodded, clearly thinking through his next words very carefully. “Back there, when we were… you know…”

“Slaughtering a load of vampires?” she offered up, arching an eyebrow and still not completely okay with the idea, even though she was trying to get to grips with it.

“Yeah,” Sam said, shifting uncomfortably as she stared at him. “Then.”

“What, you think I wouldn’t at least try and fight off an angel trying to use me as a prom dress if I thought I stood a chance?” she laughed, bitter. “I started taking classes at college. Krav Maga, mainly. Mix it up a little with stuff I see on YouTube from time to time. If nothing else? It’s a decent workout. Not all of us like pounding pavements,” she grinned at him, poking a finger into his ribs.

Sam looked down at her hand and laughed. “So that’s what you were doing, huh?” He asked in a tone that suggested that the question was aimed more at himself. She grinned as he raised his eyes to look at her then, and saw a slight blush to his cheeks as he mumbled, “Looked good. Impressive.”

Bea winked and grinned up at him. “Oh yeah? Want me to show you some moves, Samuel?”

Sam laughed, embarrassment evident in his tone. “Maybe when I’m not so full and ready to burst, huh?”

“Wuss,” she mumbled, and Sam reached out a hand in slow motion, pretending that he was about to slap her face. Bea grabbed his hand easily, twisting it up and away from her in one fluid movement, pinning it down on his lap and resting her hand there on top of it with little effort at all.

Sam looked down at her hand again, and grinned, and after a moment of hesitation, reached his other hand out to cover hers, trapping it there gently.

Bea just smiled wider and didn’t move. “You said questions. Was there more?”

“Yeah,” Sam said, eyes drifting back up to her face and his expression becoming unreadable. “Yeah, I do. Have more,”

“Go on,” she prompted, loosening her grip a little but not enough to shift Sam’s hand.

“So. You’ve been possessed. Three times? Since you’ve met Cas?” he asked, wanting the confirmation, his eyes still fixed on their hands.

“Yeah.”

“When was the last time?”

Bea’s expression clouded over, and Sam wanted to take back his words instantly.

“You don’t need to answer that if you don’t want to,” Dean was suddenly awake, observing them both but tactfully keeping his eyes away from where their hands were joined. Sam withdrew his hands gently anyway, thinking to himself how Dean had woken up just at the mention of Cas’ name, but didn’t say a word about it.

Bea shrugged, pulling back from Sam herself. “Three years ago.”

Dean continued staring, but it was not at them as such. He was busy calculating how three years ago would fit into their own timeline, and all it did was make him frown.

He still hated that this had been happening - that Bea had been such an active part of Cas’ life and that he knew nothing about her, or any of it. He hated that there was so much about Cas that he still didn’t know, and probably never would.

Most of all, Dean hated the way his thoughts always brought him back to this, this lingering idea that somehow Cas had been dishonest with him by not telling him about Bea. Or even worse, that he had cheated on him in some way by not telling him about her. Acknowledging that thought, even just to himself, made Dean cringe; because not only did it sound ridiculous in every way possible, but it just reiterated how mixed up he’d let himself become over everything.

That he felt things for Cas had somehow got tangled up in all this mess, when they were distinctly two very separate things. But this constant stream of thoughts refused to let up, and had become something of an unspoken mantra that taunted him day and night, even when he reminded himself of how stupid he was being.

It didn’t make any of it any less true, or any easier to deal with.

“Three years?” Sam asked for confirmation, and Bea nodded, curious at the expression on both of their faces.

“How often do you see him?”

The question was from Dean, and Bea looked up in surprise at the defeat in his tone.

“Every few months. I get the occasional text too, although I know that’s your fault,” she said, smiling, though a frown still threatened because of the dejected look on Dean’s face.

“My fault?” Dean asked, leaning forward a little.

“Yeah,” she laughed, “He told me you gave him a cellphone. There was a month back a while ago when I received nothing but a string of emoticons. I had a hard time working out what he meant, they weren’t exactly lucid,” she smiled, clearly fond of the memory. “He was so proud of himself when he showed up,” she laughed, shaking her head to herself.

Dean’s stomach dropped again at that. The cell phone had been for Cas to contact him, and okay, so perhaps it was naive, and perhaps selfish to not think that Cas would have other people he would want to send messages to. But it left a bitter taste in his mouth all the same.

“It’s still weird,” Dean said, grumbling a little.

“Weird?” she asked, although she thought she understood where he was going with this. Perhaps even a little how he felt.

“Yeah,” Dean insisted. “It’s weird that he told you about us, but he didn’t tell us about you at all.” Dean didn’t meant to have accusation in his voice when he spoke to her, but it was there, easy for Bea to hear.

“I know,” she nodded, carefully. “I also know how ridiculously protective he is of you. Both,” she added hastily at the panicked look Dean gave her before quickly glancing over at Sam. “I think it was just his way of keeping you that bit safer. Cas-logic, you know?”

Dean took that in, tried to make it fit in his understanding, and gave her the slightest of grunts of acceptance at her words.

“He talks about you all the time,” She added, because she could see Dean needed something further from her to reassure him.

Dean nodded slowly, his expression wary. “Like what?”

Bea’s face twisted into another smile. “He says you are his family. That… that you are the reason he understands what it is to be human. That… that he would do anything he could for you, if he could.” She paused, sucking up a breath. “He misses you when he’s not with you, you know that, right?”

Dean swallowed at the way Bea focused those words directly at him instead of addressing both he and Sam. “He said that?” he asked softly as though he couldn’t let himself believe it.

“Yep. I mean. It’s Cas. He’s as…” and Bea steepled her fingers against her chin, considering what to say, “As…. word… constipated as you,” she said eventually to Dean, fighting back the smile that snuck up on her at the wave of confusion, embarrassment, then defiance that fought for dominance on his face all at the same time.

When Dean could say nothing, she laughed, “Alright. Maybe he didn’t say it in those very words. But for every ‘Dean would like this’ when we pass food - any food, or ‘This is Dean’s favourite song,’ on the radio, or ‘This smells like Dean’s shampoo’ if he comes shopping with me. I can tell that he misses you.” Bea narrowed her eyes a little more then gave a half shrug.

“You should see his face every time he sees a plaid shirt,” she smiled again, and made a pulling gesture out and away from her eyes, “Eyes out on stalks,” Bea fought back the laugh that threatened its escape as she observed Dean, seeing him becoming more and more flustered by the second, his mouth gaping open a little as though he’d had a revelation and didn’t know quite what to do with it.

Glancing over briefly she saw Sam smiling knowingly, nodding as though she had just confirmed something to him about Dean that he himself had been suspecting. When he looked up she caught his gaze with a mouthed ‘what’, and he winked at her, tilting his chin a little over at Dean, and smirking before shooting her a conspiring smile.

Bea made a mental note to corner Sam later to talk it over, but she was pretty sure Sam was seeing the exact same thing as her; that there were unspoken things between Dean and Cas that needed resolving, for all of their sakes.

Chiding herself that now might not be the best time for any kind of matchmaking, Bea promised herself that she would keep watching them closely. And if the opportunity arose to nudge them out of their wilful stupidity, well. She wouldn’t be able to stop herself.

***

  
  
  



	6. Chapter 6

Cas was suffering.

Dean could tell that from the gentle forward curving of his body as he stood, and the way his movements were somehow less precise than usual. He had been on the run for months now, but strangely - and Dean meant that in the best possible way - he had seen more of Cas in these past few months than he had done in the entire previous year. Which was of course a little bittersweet for Dean, given the circumstances they found themselves in currently.

What was also bittersweet was the way Dean was finally getting to grips with all he felt for Cas. He might be going back and forth a lot with his thinking, but generally he had got himself to a point where he could acknowledge to himself that he had long ceased considering Cas as merely his friend, and now saw him as something altogether more.

With caution, Dean allowed himself to mute his constant internal dialogue. Normally, it sneered at him unchecked for what he was feeling, berating him unrelentingly with the antagonistic words he’d learned from his father. But now, and in its place, came the acknowledgement of what Dean really wanted. Which was Cas.

On some days, that wanted equated to nothing more than letting himself miss Cas, silently wishing away the time until he’d see him again, whenever that might be. But on others, the want was downright lustful, with Dean biting back the moan of wishful thinking, that it was Cas’ hand wrapped tight around him, rather than his own bringing him unsatisfied release.

It was way beyond bittersweet that Cas' life was so endangered now that he could never stick around for more than an hour or two at a time. It left Dean in limbo, with never enough time to work up the courage to say, or do, anything about these revelations that he had been having.

Dean watched him now, attempting to lecture Bea on his usual subject, which was her staying with them there at the bunker for her own safety and his peace of mind. It was obvious to Dean, from her stance and the way Cas' shoulders were slumping in defeat, that he was not doing so well with his efforts. Dean allowed himself to just observe him for a moment, his eyes taking a well-travelled path as they lingered over him.

His gaze started somewhere around Cas’ thighs, imagining the muscle there hiding behind the fabric of his pants, up and over the shirt that fit him just perfectly but that Dean didn’t really get to see often enough, because it was almost constantly under a trenchcoat. He only got a glimpse of it now, swallowing at the flat of Cas’ stomach as he’d somehow managed to trap his suit jacket and trenchcoat under the thumb currently resting on his hip.

Dean came to a stop for a moment at the messy knot of tie at Cas’ neck, fighting back the somewhat constant urge to go and straighten it up as a perfect excuse to brush against the skin there behind it.

He watched Cas’ face in profile, knowing every inch of the image that played behind his eyelids night and day, from every angle. His eyes always ended up lost in Cas’ hair, that stood forever on end and untamed, that Dean’s fingers twitched to get into just from constantly looking at it.

“It would just be for a few days, Bea,” Dean heard, when he’d managed to get a hold on the images he was creating there for himself a little, and strained his ear to hear their conversation better.

“No. I've told you. No, no and no. I've got things to do.”

“Things more important than being safe, Bea?” Cas asked her, incredulous and pleading all in one.

“You're being dramatic. As usual,” she muttered half under her breath; Dean smiled and turned his head away in case they happened to look over in his direction.

He listened as Cas gave out a hard, long-suffering sigh, and knew it only preceded a lecture; he had been on the receiving end of enough himself to know what was coming Bea's way. He was pretty sure Bea knew too, given the way she visibly braced herself for his words.

“Bea. Would you please be reasonable about this. You know what is out there now. You have seen it. And you have  _ accepted  _ it.” He said, in his most reasonable tone that was straining more and more towards frustration.

“Just ‘cause I accepted it doesn’t mean I’ve got to like it, Cas. I hate living like this. I hate feeling like I’m in some kind of… supernatural witness protection programme,” she huffed out in exasperation.

Cas huffed back in a perfect mirror to her gestures. “But I cannot protect you, Bea. Not if you keep insisting on attempting to live as you normally would. Not when I need to keep moving,” his eyes implored her, and the resolve she’d determined to hide behind faltered a little, before she raised her head back up in defiance.

Cas reached out to her for a second, lightly gripping around her elbow. “And I cannot stay. And if you  _ dare  _ tell me that you do not need protection-” Dean fought against the urge to grin at the frustrated slapping of hands Cas did against himself when he couldn't get his point across. “Yesterday I was mere seconds from being captured, Bea. Kushiel is gaining on me, and when he-”

“He’s not going to-” Bea said, frustrated disbelief, or denial filled her voice, and Dean winced to hear it. She fluctuated so erratically between acknowledging her and Cas’ danger and acting as though they were out for a picnic, that sometimes Dean felt he couldn’t quite keep up. Even if he did understand where she was coming from, and wished there was more he could be doing to help them both.

“When he catches me, Bea. You have to be safe. I must have you hidden.” Cas had cut off her words, and Bea had grumbled in objection.

“You're asking too much, Cas.” she insisted, shaking her head at him.

“ _ Beatrice  _ ,” Dean's eyes flew up to them then; it was the first time he had ever heard Cas use her full name, and he knew the finality behind the tone that came with it. “If you believe for one moment that 'having a life' is more important than-”

“Shut it. Shut it right there.”

Dean was not sure if he wanted to laugh, or high five, or hide on Bea's behalf as she closed the gap between herself and Cas and prodded him hard in the chest, wincing as her finger crumpled against him. Cas rolled his eyes, reaching out to take her hand and hold her wounded finger against his palm, wrapping his own fingers around it and immediately lancing away any pain that she felt there.

Bea took her hand back and looked at it with an accusing pout, before turning her eyes back to him to continue glaring with indignance. “If  _ you  _ think for one moment that that's what this is about, you can go to hell, right now, you utter, utter idiot.” she prodded him again, lighter this time, standing on tiptoe to attempt to glare at him at eye level.

“You say you're about to be caught, right? You think... do you think for a second I could stand anything happening to you? Don't you think that would kill me, more than anything? You stupid, stupid, self-righteous, must-save-the-world… idiot.” Bea settled on, and Dean could see she was annoyed at her own lacklustre choice of words.

“You should hide too, Cas. You should. Research. Research, Cas, we’ll find something. Sam and Dean are looking... they'll find something-”

Dean felt a swell of pride that she would have such faith in them already after so short a time. It was nice to know they did some good once in a while.

“I am not their responsibility any more than I am yours,” Cas' retort was harsh, and Dean sucked in a breath at hearing it.

“You're wrong about that, Cas.” Dean said, no longer pretending not to listen and surprising himself by finding he’d unconsciously moved to stand right behind them as they spoke.

Cas' eyes found his with a glare, and Dean found himself swallowing a little awkwardly as he walked forward the final step towards them, keeping his gaze constantly on Cas.

“Bea's right. None of us are gonna be too happy if we lose you. In fact...” and he shuffled a little uncomfortably before squaring his shoulders, coming to stop before him with a shuddering breath. “It would just about break me, Cas. I can't lose you again.”

They were all silent for a moment.

Bea watched Cas, looking for a crack; and it seemed to her in that moment that Dean had found it. She worked with it, forcing it open a little more now that she had the chance to do so. “Dean’s right. And I can’t lose you either. If you don’t know that by now…” Bea’s voice faded away with her own hands falling heavy against her thighs as she waited for Cas to speak.

“Please? Stay?” she pleaded, when Cas didn’t immediately answer, with that puppy dog look that Dean suspected was an expression she shared with Sam, “Just for a few days. Maybe if we all get our heads together we'll think of something. And this'll all be over,” she said hopefully, reaching out and softly wrapping her hand around Cas' again. “I’m so ready for this to be  _ over  _ , Cas.”

Cas looked down at their entwined hands, but said nothing. Dean ached for him, and found himself jealous at how easy it was for Bea to reach out to touch him unthinkingly. Which was a crazy train of thought, he knew that, but couldn’t stop himself from thinking it regardless.

“If you think I could stand to lose the only family I've ever known,” she whispered, loud enough for Dean to hear the thickness in her throat as she spoke, “Then you really are ridiculously dumb. Please listen to Dean, if you won't listen to me,” she added, flicking her eyes over to Dean's for backup.

“You know she's right, Cas. Come on. Stay at the bunker. Just for a bit. And we'll hit the books, hard. Figure something out."

Dean held his breath as Cas closed his eyes, and Dean sighed out in relief the moment he knew they had won.

Bea gave a delighted little  _ yay  _ then launched herself at Cas, who huffed for a second then wrapped his arms tightly around her, leaning his head on top of hers, his eyes never leaving Dean's.

***

“You gonna stay out here all night?”

Dean closed the bunker door softly behind him and waited as Cas glanced up from where he was standing like a sentry guarding the doorway. His eyes returned to the horizon without really seeing anything, and Dean continued watching Cas’ outline as his shoulders pulled up in a shrug.

“I have no need for sleep, Dean. As you are aware.”

“True,” Dean agreed, coming to stand beside him and shivering a little at the cold of the clear night. “But I can’t sleep. How ‘bout you come back inside and keep me company for a bit?”

Cas glanced over at him out of the corner of his eye and nodded once, watching Dean spin quickly on his heel and dart back in instantly.

“Freezing out there,” Dean said, folding his arms over his chest and shivering again as he returned to the table covered with books, sliding heavily back down into his seat.

Cas silently sat beside him, idly picking up a book and tapping a finger against a page that he was not really reading. “I presume these are of little use,” Cas mumbled, more a statement than a question.

“We’ll find something, Cas,” Dean promised, feeling himself sink a little in disappointment at the dejected tone of his voice, especially when all Cas could do was give him the smallest of nods in response.

“Think this place is starting to grow on Bea,” Dean said, more for something to say than to make any kind of point. Cas smiled, briefly looking up at him.

“I believe so. She told me the last time she was here she persuaded you to dance with her.”

Dean threw his head back with a laugh at the light in Cas’ eyes as he said that. “More of a drunken shuffle than a dance, Cas. And it was Sam as well. That woman… I reckon she could get him to walk through fire if she asked him in  _ that  _ tone. You know the one,” Cas’ smile told him that he did, and Dean nodded a little to himself.

“Think Sam’s got a crush,” Dean said, low, leaning in a little to Cas’ side and lingering there for a second.

Cas sighed a little but smiled wider. “I imagine that it is reciprocated,” he laughed softly, fingers still drumming absently against the book in front of him.

“Tell me when you want to start an intervention,” Dean winked, still pressed against his side, his stomach flipping at the way Cas leaned back so easily into it.

“I believe that to be unnecessary.”

Dean’s eyes locked on Cas’, and something unspoken passed between them that left them frozen in place and unmoving. Dean’s eyes dropped a fraction to Cas’ lips, and if he leaned just a little further-

Dean pulled himself away abruptly, cursing himself as he did, and standing awkwardly, stumbling against the back of Cas’ chair. Cas’ hand flew out to steady him and their fingers locked around one another, Cas looking down at them curiously before glancing back up at Dean.

Dean watched their joined hands as well, holding his breath, wondering if Cas would pull away from him. When he didn’t, Dean stood more naturally, and found himself pulling Cas to his feet, wrapping his arms around him tightly. Cas hesitated for all of a second before mirroring Dean’s movements, and as Cas pressed himself into the crease of Dean’s neck, Dean’s heart pounded out erratically.

The ease with which Cas came to him was alarming; partially because he seemed so willing, and Dean didn’t know what to do with that. And partly because Dean feared Cas was so broken by what he was going through, that his defences were completely shut down. Which might mean Cas wasn’t conscious of what he was doing in the first place, and as a result that he didn’t really intend to hug him back like that at all.

That second thought had Dean gathering Cas that little bit closer to him, which Cas showed no objection to in the slightest and just pressed himself in even closer. Dean sighed out in relief, letting himself enjoy having him there in his arms for as long as he could.

“We’ll find something, Cas,” Dean promised him again, ghosting a forbidden kiss against his hair unthinkingly. Cas nodded against him, his own lips brushing briefly against Dean’s neck and making his stomach flip once more.

Cas didn’t let go of Dean until Dean stepped back, hands resting lightly on his waist and observing him at arm’s length. Cas looked up at him solemnly, and it took all of Dean’s willpower not to gather him up in his arms again at the sadness he saw there.

They talked for most of the night, slumped down on the sofa with Dean’s head falling dangerously close to leaning on Cas' shoulder more than once as he drifted off to sleep.

He woke under a blanket, and sat up blearily to find Cas standing perfectly still, flipping through the pages of the same book he’d half-glanced at the night before.

Dean looked down at himself and smiled at the thought of the way Cas must have tucked him in as he slept.

When Bea wandered through blearily some time later, Dean observed as Cas’ shoulders lost their tension for a moment and then grew hard again, and something he couldn’t work out passed over Cas’ face. Bea smiled up at him unaware, leaning her head on his chest and wrapping her arms around his back, with Cas bringing his arms up automatically to hold her.

Dean swallowed back the cruel taunts at himself that instantly rose up at seeing that, nodding at Cas as he passed him to go to the kitchen and start their coffee.

***

Despite Bea’s scientific background, research hunter-style held little interest for her, and she found it ridiculously difficult to concentrate. She wanted Cas there with them in the bunker, in the hope that he’d stay put, and stay safe. But try as she might to focus on the thick, well-thumbed book in front of her, the words swam before her eyes, and she found herself staring at the top of Sam, Dean and Cas’ heads more than at the page she was supposed to be on.

With a sigh that no one reacted to, Bea slid her chair back and wandered away to the kitchen. Idly she brought them first coffee, then chips, and then pie, which actually had Dean pause long enough to acknowledge her with a grateful smile in between bites.

“I’m bored,” she huffed out eventually, with Cas absently reaching a hand out to pat at her as he continued to read.

Dean and Sam didn’t even look up, which did nothing but make Bea frown.

“I’m really bored,” she added, squirming in her seat. “Wanna hear some more 'Cas facts' while you read?”

“No,” was Cas’ instant reply, but Dean raised his head in interest.

“Guess we can take a short break,” he said, leaning back and folding his arms, looking at her intently.

“No,” Cas repeated, turning to him sternly, but all Dean did was smirk back at him.

Over the next half an hour, Dean learnt that as well as speaking every language in the world, Cas knew almost all forms of dance to perfection. Bea had Dean in tears of laughter, recalling a rainy day when she’d demanded Cas keep her company in her apartment and show her all of his moves. Especially when Cas got flustered and insisted he would leave immediately if she wouldn’t stop talking, when she asked him to demonstrate for them there and then.

Dean also learned that Cas could conjure up recipes for food and drink that had long ceased to exist, with Bea waxing lyrical about a recipe from Ancient Greece with such want in her voice, that Dean’s stomach growled loudly in protest. She then revealed that despite that knowledge, or perhaps in spite of it, Cas was actually even more hopeless in the kitchen than Sam, who took comfort in that fact and reached across to clasp a hand on Cas’ shoulder in solidarity.

Cas threatened to leave again when Bea started talking about some visits they’d had to Target over Christmas, with him actually standing up in exasperation at the mention of mistletoe.* Dean’s imagination ran wild, but instead of asking questions he made the executive decision that perhaps they’d all best get back to the research they were supposed to be doing.

The look Cas gave him was nothing but relieved.

***

With the four of them studying their way through all of the lore books the bunker could offer, they had something of a breakthrough sometime around mid afternoon. A promising-looking relic had them all on edge for some kind of action, with Dean anxious to get moving immediately and Sam more than happy to back him up.

Cas was less certain of the lead, pointing to an area in the text they were looking at that was smudged and hard to interpret. But with it being all they had to go on, he reluctantly agreed that they should take a look.

Bea was also reluctant in her agreement, feeling unsettled at their suggestion of leaving her behind whilst they went. The look on Cas’ face didn’t give her much room for choice though, so the moment Dean and Sam were about to set off, Bea sighed and asked Cas to take her home.

***

To say that Sam and Dean were frustrated by the relic turning out to be nothing but a false promise would be an understatement. Dean rested his hand against it, jaw setting hard and resisting the urge to strike out violently at whatever he could get his hands on.

Sam was only slightly calmer, fists clenching and unclenching at his sides as his eyes absently drifted around the dilapidated room they had found themselves in.

Both of them were too busy silently seething, letting their guard down momentarily in disappointment, to hear the arrival of Kushiel by their side.

***

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *
> 
> If you noticed the * ... the next chapter will explain all about the mistletoe 'incident' :)


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * so this is the * from the previous chapter.
> 
> It is a completely unnecessary flashback that you can skip if you so wish.
> 
> But I had a lot of giggles writing it so... up to you :)
> 
> x

_ 2001 _

Christmas music blasted out through obnoxiously loud speakers, and garish festivities adorned every shelf, surface and display around the store.

On a regular day, Target was busy, full of customers either in a hurry and grabbing everything in messy haste, or meandering through with too much time to kill. Either way, there was a general feel of chaos in the air that only the bravest of retail workers could tune out to mere background distraction. Those less seasoned could be found trembling in corners or clutching glass-eyed at cups of tepid coffee waiting for their shift to end.

But at Christmas.

Target at Christmas was almost an entirely new entity.

Cas walked down a particularly brightly-lit aisle, eyes wide and curiously analysing everything he observed. He came to a complete stop in front of a nativity scene, bending down slightly to pick up a donkey figurine from where it had fallen over next to the crib of the baby Jesus. Bringing it up to eye level, the briefest look of bewilderment flickered, before he carefully replaced it back in its upright position, and carried on walking.

His face split with mirth when he came across a box of what were labelled as cherubs. Holding one such specimen delicately between his thumb and forefinger, he twisted it from side to side, becoming more amused with each passing second.

“Looking for a piece of home?”

With one smooth movement, Cas returned the cherub to its container and turned around to find Bea with a length of silver tinsel wrapped around her neck like a scarf, and wearing a huge, plush Santa hat, whose tip bounced off of the end of her nose.

“Well?” she demanded when he didn't answer, and moved to peer into the box. “This look anything like... you know. Home, for you?”

“I do not have a home, Bea.” he told her patiently, watching the hat bobble as it continued to bounce.

“What, no cloud to rearrange and string up fairy lights around?” she asked as though she she’d said the funniest thing in the world.

Cas narrowed his eyes at her but otherwise his face remained motionless. “As I have told you, repeatedly. I do not live on a cloud,”

“Alright  _ grumpy  _ . What's with the lack of festive cheer? Tell me you do  _ do  _ Christmas up there, if nothing else?” she demanded, hands on her hips.

When Cas did nothing but stare down at her, Bea huffed out exasperated, and spun around on her heel with a parting glare. “Fine. But you said you'd help me pick out decorations for the dorm. This. This...  _ attitude  _ ,” she declared, glancing back at him in disdain, “Is not helping  _ at all,  _ Cas.”

“How do you wish me to assist?”

Bea smiled wickedly to herself but schooled her expression to one that was neutral, and faking innocent.

***

The checkout operator looked at Cas as though he was the most adorable thing she had ever seen. Although Cas was unaware of precisely what the look said, he felt uncomfortable under her affectionate gaze.

Bea continued to shoot happy glances in his direction, eyes blown wide with delight. On Cas' head was a jauntily placed elf hat, his hair sticking out at all angles from the bottom of it and curling outwards. His cheeks twinkled, catching the light from every angle thanks to the copious amounts of glitter Bea had smeared over his face. And over his long sleeved t-shirt was another shirt that read, in oversized, glittery writing,  _ Santa's little helper  _ .

“C’mon,” she said, grabbing his arm once they’d paid and were loaded up with their bags.

Cas followed Bea silently back to the minibus where the rest of the school group were clammering around excitedly at their purchases. When they took in the appearance of Cas, they all steadily grew silent, and the air became charged with the promise of laughter.

Cas stood obliviously, while as one, the group erupted.

***

That day, Cas learned of the danger that was glitter. Bea had fallen asleep on his shoulder on the drive home, one of the rare pupils to have regular visitors and more than happy to gloat about it by snuggling into his side.

When she sat up, the right of her face sparkled with dots of glitter, which Cas absently lifted a hand to and attempted to wipe away.

In a cold, cavernous bathroom, between giggling and attempting to explain what was so funny, Bea dabbed at Cas’ face with a damp cloth, the happiest smile on her face Cas thought he had ever seen.

He found that he quite liked it.

***

_ 2012 _

“You gonna eyeball at that thing again for hours on end, Cas?”

Cas glanced up from the nativity scene in front of him and over at Bea as she stopped beside him, arching an eyebrow up in question.

“I was not 'eyeballing' anything, Bea. Your perception of the birth of Christ is somewhat... unexpected,” he settled for, although his face said that wasn't what he meant at all.

Bea laughed at that, nudging his arm. “My  _ perception  _ , Cas? You mean as in people generally, or my own, special perception from growing up in that freakhouse you left me in?”

“It was not a freakhouse,” Cas began, but stopped with a soft sigh at her snort of disagreement.

“Whatever, Cas.”

“Are you offended by this scene of nativity, Bea?” he asked, tilted his head a little and smiling.

“I'm offended by everything, Cas. Thought we agreed on that?” was her only retort before she turned away.

“I've stuff to buy. You know. Gifts and stuff.”

“Okay,” Cas told her back, as she wandered further from him.

“You're on the list,” she sang out. “Can't tell if you've been naughty or nice yet,” before disappearing around the corner of the aisle altogether. Cas found himself smiling, and walked in the other direction.

Cas continued his meander through the aisles as Bea shopped, knowing full well the anger he'd receive if he ruined whatever surprise she was buying him for Christmas. Despite his constant insistence that a gift was unnecessary, every year she had given him something.

Even his argument that he had no home to put things in she'd solved in an instant, making room for a 'Cas shelf' in her apartment where she accumulated her gifts to him over the years, telling him that at least that would mean he'd always have an excuse to come visit her.

Cas thought of the shelf now with a fond smile, recalling easily every item on there. He skipped over the novelty things, which included a mug emblazoned with the words _ Angel at work  _ circling a picture of an angel sat typing away at a desk, to the one piece he treasured above all.

The previous Christmas, Bea had slid a rectangular package on to his lap and watched him apprehensively as he opened it with the utmost care. His fingers had brushed over the soft leather case, and as he'd opened it up, a strange feeling had clutched in his chest. Inside were pictures, of both him and her together, as well as a few of him on his own, with what Bea told him were 'both his faces'. He had run a finger curiously over his  _ old  _ face for a moment, before glimpsing across the page to his favourite picture of he and Bea together.

Smiling up from the picture with carefree looks on their faces, with Cas' arm draped lightly around her shoulders and Bea beaming out a smile, they looked so  _ normal  _ . Cas found that he liked seeing that quite a bit.

Cas smiled now at the memory, finding himself staring absently at the Christmas tree display towards the front of the store.

“When are you actually gonna sit on top of my Christmas tree, huh?”

Bea stepped up behind Cas and reached up playfully to make a mess of his hair. Cas brought his hands up to defend himself, and she backed away in laughter, reaching up again out of his line of sight to straighten it back up again, pointlessly.

“Don't know why I bother,” she grinned, smirking up at him once more and darting her eyes away, full of mirth. “Always such a mess anyway, Cas. Seriously. Maybe what you really need for Christmas is a comb,”

“I would not use it,” he admitted, glancing down at the cart to her side and tilting his chin in its direction.

Bea looked down too, tapping her fingers along the handle. “You can't see anything. I've put your gift underneath everything else. So no peeking,” she admonished, with a pointed finger.

“You are of course aware that technically I can see through-”

“Ah,” she him off, now wagging the finger closer in his face. “Turn around. Let's move it, Cas. Still got stuff to buy.”

Abruptly turning the cart about face, she looked up expectantly at him then set off down another aisle with him trailing a little behind her.

About halfway down the aisle, a slightly frail-looking older woman looked up at Cas with sheer joy written all over her face. Cas smiled back uncertainly, looking up a second for Bea, but she was already a good few feet in front of him, facing away from them.

The woman beckoned him to lean down with a crooked finger, and as he got closer, and closer, she strained herself upwards and pressed a warm, wet kiss on his cheek.

Cas sprung upright, startled, mouth gaping open in confusion.

“Happy holidays, dear,” the woman told him kindly, before patting him on his arm and shuffling away.

When he caught up to Bea he was absently wiping his fingers across his cheek, which Bea arched her eyebrow at but said nothing.

“I need to get something to decorate the lab,” she told him instead, and with that was off again.

***

While Bea studied two what seemed identical sets of Christmas decorations very consideringly, Cas found himself looking around the aisle they were in with interest.

Dean had told him of some of his own Christmas experiences with Sam, and hearing them always made Cas twist with something halfway between affection and remorse. He knew, that despite them not being the happiest of memories, Dean treasured them regardless.

His eyes fell to the picture on the front of one of the boxes Bea was holding, and he frowned. It showed a family sitting around a dinner table, heaped plates of food before each of them, and smiles wide on all of their faces. It made him instantly curious about what Dean and Sam would be doing this year over Christmas, and with that single thought alone, he made up his mind that as soon as he'd finished shopping with Bea, he would leave to check in on them.

A woman came to a stop directly in front of him, cutting off his thoughts and preventing him from shuffling forward as he had been idly doing. Cas took in her perfectly straightened hair, and immaculately made up face, and wondered absently why she felt it necessary to get so dressed up when all she was probably doing was the same thing as them, and only Christmas shopping.

The woman stared on back at him with a glint in her eyes that Cas found he didn't much like. And without any hint of warning, she leaned forward, pressing her lips firmly against his mouth.

Cas stuttered back in shock, glancing over at Bea for an explanation, seeing her doubled over in laughter and clutching to the cart handle for support.

The woman smiled at him as though she wanted to eat him whole, and Cas took an uncomfortable step backwards. The next thing he was aware of was her pressing a card into his hand and herself hard against him once more, before turning away with an exaggerated sway of her hips and disappearing.

Cas stared after her dumbly until Bea snapped her fingers in front of his face, whilst wiping tears of laughter from her eyes with the back of her other hand.

Cas scowled down at her. “I do not understand why you are laughing.”

“Your  _ face  _ ,” was all Bea managed, before she set herself off giggling once again.

“There is nothing amusing about my face,” he chided, which clearly was the wrong thing to say given how Bea lost herself in a fit of laughter once again.

When Bea had calmed herself enough to move, she walked beside him, hiccuping every now and then, before glancing up at him and laughing all over again.

***

Cas’ scowl lined his face with ever deeper ridges as they continued ambling their way along the aisles.

Not only was Bea still completely helpless and setting off into giggling fits at random intervals, but so many of the people in the store today were acting very strangely indeed.

Cas was not oblivious to human interaction; he’d walked among them long enough now to learn their nuances and interpret their ways.

Winking, he always felt, was somewhere between a flirtation and a sign of solidarity, a shared understanding. And if that were true, there were an awful lot of strangers showing him solidarity today.

Cas made a comment about people truly being in the festive spirit, and Bea had to brace herself against the cart once more before they could carry on walking.

Cas took in Bea’s general demeanour and concluded his thoughts about the festive spirit seizing them all had been correct.

***

It was down the beer aisle that it happened.

Having decided he was going to visit Dean and Sam, Cas thought that he too could get ‘into the spirit of things’, by taking them a gift in the form of beer. Cas scanned shelf upon shelf of brand names, looking for those that he recognised as Dean’s favourites.

He reached his hand out and clasped his fingers around the edge of a case of beer having finally chosen, and went perfectly still as a different hand reached out to grip lightly around his arm.

“Good choice,” he heard grumbled out by his side, and he spun round immediately, a slight gasp in his throat as he stumbled back.

A man stood before him, just a touch taller than him, wearing a well-worn leather jacket open over a thick plaid shirt. Cas’ eyes travelled down to find faded blue jeans and heavy work boots, before they were dragging their way back up again in surprise. Cas’ final stop was on the man’s face; hazel eyes, stubbled jaw, a curve of a smile playing on his lips as he waited, knowingly, for Cas to finish looking him over. 

The hair was a shade too blond, the eyes not quite green enough, and the smile lit up a face that showed no signs of a lifetime battling everyone's worst nightmares. Even so. It would be impossible for Cas to look at this man and not instantly think of Dean.

“Buying for yourself, or a friend of yours?” the man asked, nodding his chin over towards the shelf.

“Yes.” Cas said dumbly, eyes still wide. “That is, for a friend.”

The man gave a quick glance in Bea’s direction where she stood a few feet away, pretending not to watch them.

“That one over there?” he asked, and Cas couldn’t quite understand what the tone of his voice was revealing.

Still feeling a little caught in headlights, Cas turned slightly before remembering Bea was there.

“No,” he shook his head. “No, that is my sister.”

Confusingly for Cas, the man’s face relaxed, and his grin widened.

“That so, huh?” he said, nodding very slowly, which Cas could only return.

With a quick flick of his eyes upwards at Cas’ hair, the man suddenly surged forward, wrapping a firm hand around his jaw and kissing him softly, letting his lips linger there for a second. And then he was stepping back, winking at Cas, before turning around, cuffing a hand to the back of his neck and walking away out of sight.

Cas continued staring after him dumbfounded, even when Bea shook his arm roughly after he didn’t respond to her speaking to him.

“Bea,” he managed eventually, bringing his fingers up to his lips and running them there in bewilderment. “Something very strange is happening here today. I believe this store is under the influence of a witch.”

He turned to her the picture of earnest, and in such seriousness, that Bea choked out a peal of laughter that ricocheted around them.

“Cas,” she stammered out, dropping her head against his chest and bouncing it there, giggling the whole time.

“Bea,” he said, in the tone he used to tell her he was not joking, but the only reaction she had was to burst out in laughter all over again.

“Cas... Oh Cas… I just… I can’t….” she hiccuped out, standing quickly to tiptoe and reaching her hand up and through his hair.

When she brought it back down, Cas saw in her palm a piece of a green-leaved plant with white berries, twisted around some kind of hair grip.

Cas looked back up at her, still not understanding, which just set her off all over again.

After much, much later, when she had managed to compose herself for longer than a couple of minutes, Bea gently turned him by the elbow and pushed the cart along in front of her.

“Cas. Let me tell you about a little Christmas tradition we call  _ mistletoe  _ …”

  
  
  
  



	8. Chapter 8

"You know you can't hide forever, Castiel."

Sam and Dean stood their ground, flinching at the malice in the voice before them.

Kushiel had transported them with the barest of effort, and they waited nervously, trying to take in their surroundings and plan an exit in a well-practiced routine.

"He's not here," Dean’s voice wavered a little, watching a slow smile spread on Kushiel's face. From the looks of things, he'd picked the most menacing vessel he could find, and silently Dean hoped that the guy had put up the ultimate struggle.

"No. He's not. But  _ you  _ are. And where you are, he will be. That's how it goes.”

Kushiel’s smile was cold, and had Dean struggling not to show the fear he was feeling.

“That’s stupid reasoning,” he tried, eyes flicking over to a potential exit before whipping back to him, but Kushiel just slowly shook his head, never breaking eye contact.

“No, Dean,” he replied, his eyes narrowing a touch. “I've been watching you, Dean Winchester. I've been watching you for the longest time."

“Seen anything you like?” Dean gave weakly, aware of Sam beside him as he felt him take a protective step forward. The angel scowled at Sam as though he were nothing more than a minor irritation. With a snap of his fingers Sam was out cold, slumping heavily to the floor with

Dean frantically reaching for him.

But naturally Kushiel was quicker, grabbing him in a chokehold that Dean fought against with all he had, eyes wide and horrified at Sam’s unmoving form at his feet.

Cas' arrival was instantaneous. Blustering in with a blaze of light, eyes full of fury, enough to make Dean’s breath hitch.

"You will release him." Cas' tone gave no room for manoeuvre, but Kushiel just threw back his head and laughed.

"See that is where you are wrong, Castiel. I know. I know  _ all  _ . And you do too, you know I can snap him in an instant. Would you like that?” He said, pressing his nose into Dean’s neck, at which Dean squirmed and struggling under his hold. “Won't be so pretty to look at if his head’s facing the wrong way, will he?" The sneer in his voice made Dean’s blood run cold.

“You see, Dean,” Kushiel said, sneering his words into Dean’s ear close enough for him to feel his breath, making him shrink back away from him in revulsion, “I have been paying attention. To you. To the way Castiel pays attention to  _ you  _ .”

Dean hitched a breath as Kushiel gripped him a little tighter, turning his head to glare at Cas. “I admit to making a mistake.” The tone in Kushiel’s voice told Dean that that particular revelation had not come easy to him, and was still an unpleasant surprise.

“You are the key. You have always been the key to getting Cas’ attention. I never suspected for a moment that he would have real… familial feelings, for the True Vessel,” he said, his voice taking on the slightest tone of wonder. “Perhaps a misguided sense of loyalty to a weapon that he could put to use. But for you. The  _ feelings…  _ ” and now his voice turned amused, mocking, and more sinister, angling his head so his breath would be felt on Dean’s neck once again. Dean shuddered, which did nothing but make Kushiel dig his fingers in harder, and laugh coldly.

"You will release him," Cas repeated, shifting Kushiel’s focus by taking a step towards them as he began chanting a spell under his breath.

Kushiel hissed, tightening his grip around Dean, and Dean was helpless to do anything but try and keep himself upright. He watched, heart pounding, as Cas slipped a hand into his pocket, drawing out a small hessian bag that he threw in their direction, whilst ripping his shirt open and placing his hand over a bloody symbol on his chest.

With a howl of fury, the angel blasted backwards from Dean and was gone in an instant, leaving Dean to fall to the floor under the sudden shock of his own weight. He crawled painfully over to Sam, looking up at Cas and seeing him doubled over, panting hard with his hands pressed into his thighs for support.

"Cas?" Dean called softly, hand in front of Sam's mouth to check he was still breathing and falling forward a little in relief when he found that he was.

"There is no time.” Cas straightened up immediately as though reminded of a call to action.

“That spell will have only sent him so far. I must return you immediately and leave,"

"Cas," Dean began protesting. Cas looked at him wistfully for a second, an apology on his face, as he flicked a wrist, and Dean found himself and Sam slumping on another floor.

***

Bea rushed forward at their sudden arrival, panic evident on her face as she reached out and laid a hand on Sam’s back, looking up at Dean for an explanation.

Cas had dropped them at Bea’s apartment, and Dean rolled his eyes at Cas’ lack of subtlety in trying to keep the three of them together. At least Bea’s place was carpeted, unlike the bunker, he thought, wincing as he turned over to his side to see Sam face down, and still unmoving.

With a groan, Dean rolled over on to his knees, shoving a hand against Sam’s shoulder and getting no response.

“Think you can help me drag him up…” And Dean looked around him, then nodded to the sofa, “Over there?”

Between them they did, rolling Sam over on to his back, Dean unable to resist checking he was breathing for a second time by pressing his fingers against his pulse. When he felt a steady beat, his shoulders dropped in relief, and Dean took a moment for himself to breath deep.

“Hey,” Bea said, her voice gentle but firm.

Dean looked down to where Bea pressed a hand against his arm. “Sit down before you fall down,”

Dean nodded, taking a step back and sinking gratefully into the couch behind him, letting his head fall back under its own weight.

“Need a drink?” Bea asked him, already moving to the kitchen without waiting for a response.

“Yeah,” Dean laughed out dryly, closing his eyes and slumping down as far as he could.

“Here,” she handed him a bottle, dropping down beside him, and training her eyes on Sam in worry as he continued lying unmoving on the sofa opposite.  “So what’s going on?”

Dean took a long pull from his beer before answering, also with his gaze fixed on Sam. “It’s getting close, Bea. Whatever it is, this thing with Cas?” and his eyes filled with fear, “It’s close. Too close. He, the angel -  _ Kushiel  _ ,” he bit out in disgust, “Got a grip on me - us, and Cas showed up-”

“‘course he did,” Bea mumbled rolling her eyes and talking to herself more than anything.

Dean swallowed guiltily, but Bea waved his concerns away. “Keep going,” she urged.

“I don’t know, Bea. He dropped Sam, grabbed me. Cas showed up and started... chanting, and that sent Kushiel off god knows where. And all Cas could say was it wasn’t far enough, and he had to go, and now we’re here, and  _ he’s  _ I don’t know where, and I…” Dean’s voice trailed away doubtfully, but the terror on his face was obvious.

Bea’s face mirrored Dean’s, in fear for Cas, and whatever was happening with him, and also for Sam laid there before them. She sighed, dropping her head down to rest against Dean’s arm, and easily moving it to his chest as he brought it up to wrap around her, kissing the top of her head absently.

“Our brothers are nothing but trouble,” She mumbled against him, and Dean squeezed her a little closer in agreement letting his head fall down on top of hers.

***

“I've got it. You go. I'll watch over him.”

Bea didn't lift her head as she spoke, eyes fixed firmly on Sam's sleeping form, as though she could will him to wake purely by staring.

Barely half an hour had passed since they had arrived, but already Dean was itching to be away. He paused, obviously torn, standing over where Sam was still unconscious, eyes clouded with so many conflicting thoughts that he couldn’t get a grasp on any one of them for more than a second. “You'll call me if there's any problem,” he said uncertainly, although he knew it was completely unnecessary.

“Of course.”

Dean didn't move. He’d told her that he needed to go, to do something, research - anything to try and help Cas. He was desperate to have some sort of usefulness, and purpose, but tearing himself away from Sam’s side when he wasn’t even awake yet just seemed so very wrong.

“Dean,” she said, exasperated, dragging her eyes up to him for a moment. “Sam'll be fine. He's knocked out, yeah, but we know he'll be okay,” although her frown suggested she had some lingering fear that he wouldn't. “But Cas. We don't know. We don't know what… or where… or  _ when  _ ...” and she couldn't finish, biting down on her lip at the admission of inevitability to the situation that she’d been lying to herself about all this time.

Dean could see her eyes were brimmed with tears and swallowed his own feelings down, knowing they wouldn’t help either of them right now.

“Alright,” he nodded once, determined. “Just... keep me posted. Okay?”

She nodded, continuing her vigil as Dean let himself out.

***.

When Sam eventually stirred, stretching stiffly as though he had woken from the longest of sleeps, Bea was up and on him, before he could even pull himself fully upright. She wrapped herself around him and held on tight, letting out a relieved sob.

Sam was startled, surprised to be holding her, but it only took seconds for him to lean into it willingly.

“You. Don't do that again, Samuel,” she chided, pressing her face down into his shoulder and hiding it there so that her voice came out muffled.

Sam heard her sob again, and quickly raised a hand to rest on the back of her head. The other one went straight to her lower back, to try and bring as much comfort as he was able to, despite being disoriented himself and not quite sure what was going on.

Bea pressed herself into him in response, and all Sam could do was hold on, bewildered. But the second his brain caught up he tensed beneath her, and Bea wound her arms a little tighter around him, taking over the role of comforter.

“What’d I miss?” he asked, pressing his lips into her hair.

In halting words laden with fear, Bea told him all she could, which really wasn’t very much at all. Still too weak to really move, Sam could do little but cling on to her, mumbling reassurances he didn’t really feel into her hair as she nuzzled as close to him as she could.

They stayed like that, holding on in silence until long after the room had grown dark, with neither of them wanting to be the first to break contact.

***

“I can't do this, you know.”

Sam looked down at Bea’s face, finding that it was carefully masked, and raised an eyebrow in question. “What?”

“This.” and she nodded at him, her nose striking against his chest as she sat herself up and put a little distance between them. “This… these little looks we keep giving each other and... you know, Sam. The caring thing. I don't do the caring thing. Not willingly. Don't like it much,”

Sam smiled, but it was conflicted, by the uncertainty of her words and his own feelings of want. Caring, as Bea put it, had snuck up on him slowly, until it was a consuming thought that clouded his judgement and made him feel nothing but guilty and confused.

When Dean had eventually called to check in and tell him where he was, Sam had been so relieved, that he’d automatically pulled Bea back into his arms and absently kissed her shoulder. Bea had tightened her grip around his neck, pressing her own lips against his neck, smiling as she felt him swallow awkwardly beneath them.

They hadn’t strayed far from each other since then, with half-hearted attempts to eat sat side by side on the sofa, followed by disinterestedly watching something on TV, with Sam’s arm protectively wrapped around her and Bea’s head resting on his chest, hand tucked in to his side.

But something seemed to have shifted for Bea, and in place of the comfort they’d had between them all day, came awkwardness and tension.

“I can't let you in, Sam. I've a feeling you'd worm your way in and never leave, and then I'd be stuck with you. And I'm not the kind of girl to be able to look you in the eye after one night of... you know. 'cos we're sort of stuck with each other anyway with our brothers. After.... this. We're gonna keep seeing each other around, and that'd be awkward. Especially with the way those two are,” she laughed lightly, resisting the urge to lay her head back down.

“One night?” Sam's lips pulled up into a smile after her speech, stuck for something to say, focusing on the only thing that he could in that very moment.

“Yeah,” She nodded. “One mind-blowing night, and I'll not be able to be near you without hurling insults at you. Or... something,” He eyes drifted for a second and stopped level with his chest, before she forced them back up again and mumbled a curse under her breath. Which just made Sam laugh hard, and he moved to reach for her but then stopped at the look she gave him, though he was still smiling. “'Mind-blowing?'”

Bea arched a shrewd eyebrow at him then as though he had said something incredibly stupid. “Yeah. You know we would be,” and then she winked, freezing in realisation at her own flirting, and pulled further back from him.

“Who says anything about one night?” he asked softly, looking at her with a carefully masked expression and ignoring the pounding that his heart was doing.

It was Bea’s turn to look a little bewildered. “Huh?”

“One night. I never said anything about one night. In fact, I didn't say anything at all. About any of this. You started it,” he reminder her with a grin, and this time he did reach out, wrapping a hand around her arm.

“Yeah,” she breathed out, closing her eyes, shaking her head angrily at herself. “And I'll be the one to finish it too.”

Bea squared her shoulders then, and turned to face him, determined, but obviously faltering. “I can't, Sam. I care too much already. And I hate it. Don't make me hate you too.”

Bea stood abruptly, forcing herself not to look at him. “Stay. If you want. You know where everything is, right?”

Before Sam could answer she was walking away from him, closing her bedroom door firmly and turning to rest her forehead against it with a curse.

Sam stared after her for a while before he could bring himself to move, and padded silently to the guest room.

***

“Turning in,” Dean announced, bringing Sam's attention back to the room. He grunted a response which had Dean pause where he was standing to stop and look at him.

Cas had reappeared briefly earlier that day, long enough to reassure Dean that he was okay but nowhere near long enough for them to have any kind of conversation. So that he didn’t self implode with worry, Dean had turned all of his focus to research, with an urgency that Sam hadn’t seen since the last time Cas had needed help.

With Dean being so intent on his search, it gave Sam breathing room to think about something other than the current mess they found themselves in, or at least concentrate on the part of the mess that involved him the most.

Bea’s words played over and over for him. They taunted his every thought by lacing them with guilt for the people he’d already loved and lost, fear that this thing had already become too big for him to walk away from, and how he would attempt to navigate it with everything that was going on around them.

Despite what she’d said, all Sam could think about was how much he wanted this. How much he wanted her. Complete with all the challenges and complications it would bring, and the hope that really, what Bea wanted, was him.

“You good?” Dean asked him, gruff with undisguised concern. If Sam believed for a second that Dean wouldn’t sense something was up, he’d only be lying to himself. But he needed time to process this thing with Bea before he’d be able to talk about it, and so kept it to himself until he could get his thoughts together. He knew Dean would understand that, given his own silence on a similar subject, Sam smiled to himself.

“Sure,” Sam gave, idly ruffling through some pages on his lap as though he actually might be paying them the slightest bit of attention.

Dean nodded once, and slowly, choosing not to push him. “Sure you're sure?”

Sam laughed. “Go to bed, Dean.”

Dean narrowed his eyes for a second as though looking right through him, then shrugged easily in acceptance. “Night, Sammy.”

“Night.”

Sam's reply seemed to hang in the air, far too quiet, and much too empty for his tumbling thoughts to give him any kind of peace.

He picked up his phone, slowly thumbing through the contacts. Raising his head in the direction of where Dean had just left to check he had really gone, and that he was really alone, he took a steadying breath and dialled, feeling his heart thudding as he waited to hear the phone being answered.

Bea had driven Sam back to the bunker when Dean had called them. The drive over had been a forced imitation of how they usually were together that had thawed little by the time they’d arrived. Staying for only the briefest of dinners, Bea had turned and left as soon as possible, although Sam thought, or at least wanted to think, that she looked torn by her decision.

He could hear her smile into the phone as she answered, and felt a little relief at that. “I was gonna call and say I got back okay, but I went to the gym first instead, okay? Sorry. I'm back. All intact,” she added, and Sam smiled into the phone himself.

“Yeah, I got that,” he agreed, unable to stop the automatic smile that followed.

“Good.”

“So.” he started, trying to find the words he needed to get through this.

“It's kinda late, Sam,” Bea pressed gently, neither surprised that he had called nor disappointed by it, even if she felt ridiculously nervous to hear his voice after just a few hours.

“You're sleeping?” Sam’s voice wavered a little, although he knew it was only because he was looking for an excuse to not be brave here.

Bea looked down at herself; snuggled deep under the duvet clutching her fingers around a mug of hot chocolate and a book abandoned by her side.

“Not yet.”

“Good. Glad I didn't wake you.” Sam continued smiling into the phone, still stuck for the right words to say.

Bea huffed Cas-like down the line, and Sam bit back the laughter he felt bubbling up to hear it. “Did your call have a purpose, Samuel?”

Sam shook his head, sighing to himself because she wouldn’t have been able to see that, then took another deep breath. “Actually, yes.”

“Go on,” she pressed again, feeling her heart fluttering a little.

The breath Sam was holding came out long and unsteady. “How'd you feel about dinner sometime this week?”

***

  
  
  



	9. Chapter 9

Despite his threats about Dean being the ‘key’ to getting Cas to agree to what he wanted, there had been no sign of Kushiel for several weeks. Instead of easing their worry, it put them all on edge, with each of them expecting him to show up at any moment and find them still without a solution for defeating him.

So after a particularly heated, pointless argument between he and Sam over an interpretation in a text they’d come across, Dean took Cas’ sudden arrival as an excuse for them all to take a break. After a lot of wheedling and playing his ‘do it for Bea’ card he’d started using to keep Cas around, Cas had agreed, reluctantly, to stay with them more than his usual couple of hours.

It was true that Dean hoped taking a break would make them all a little calmer, and perhaps give them renewed focus when they took up their research again. But it was also true that Dean couldn’t resist the opportunity to try to make Cas sit still for once, to relax from his constant running and just be , at least for a short while.

And to start with it had seemed to be going exactly to Dean’s plan. They’d spent the best part of the day at Bea’s apartment, doing every day, human things that had Cas smiling in a mixture of affection and exasperated amusement. He’d even managed a surprisingly good attempt at Cards Against Humanity, not knowing quite why Sam, Dean and Bea were laughing so hard at his suggestions, but enjoying their company all the same.

But after a while, Cas became restless, and began pacing impatiently back and forth across the living room. With every lap, and turn on his heel, each of them started brimming with tension again. And with sinking disappointment, Dean saw that look in Cas’ eye that said he wanted to be on the move again.

Bea studied the change in Dean’s expression as he watched Cas, not even aware of how openly he was staring. She raised an eyebrow at Sam, who was also watching Dean, and he gave her a sad smile, shrugging as if to say I don’t know what to do here. With that, Bea had huffed to herself, wrapped her hand around Cas’ fingers stopping him mid stride, and insisted that they all get out and burn off a little steam.

Dean watched with a grim set to his jaw as Cas looked down at Bea’s hand, before tightening his fingers in hers, and looking back up at Dean in resignation once more.

After a too-long drive they had found this rundown, abandoned basketball court, the painted lines marking out the floor faded into almost nothing, and the net ripped and torn from one hoop while completely missing from the other.

“We need a ball, Cas,” Bea had told him with no room for argument. Cas had rolled his eyes, checking the image she brought up on her phone so he knew exactly what kind of ball to get, then disappeared. He returned minutes later with a bright orange basketball held between his hands, looking down at it curiously and flexing his fingers along the surface as though studying its texture.

Dean continued watching in heated silence as Bea helped - forced, Cas first out of his trenchcoat, then his suit jacket, before yanking his shirt up out of his pants, rolling up his sleeves, and pulling his tie up and over his head.

That Cas stood unmoving and resigned throughout the entire thing told Dean Bea had done this before, and that quiet flood of jealousy washed through him yet again.

After a truly bastardised version of the rules of basketball from Bea, Cas dribbled the ball slowly across the court in trial, then looked to Dean with a shy smile, sighing as if to say let’s get this over with.

Neither Bea nor Cas were particularly good at it, but happily played along for a while, despite Sam and Dean’s constant teasing, until Bea collided with Sam’s elbow with enough force for her to stumble backwards and see stars.

Cas glowered at Sam for a moment, long enough to make Sam squirm under his gaze, then huffed out in exasperation, laying a healing hand on Bea as his face softened into a smile. Bea nudged into his side, tilting her head over to the broken benches lining the court and he nodded back, following her over.

Sam and Dean seemed to have found boundless energy, sparring good naturedly, calling out, and tackling each other more often than they actually tried to get the ball in the hoop.

With their focus on the Winchesters fond and affectionate, the air between Cas and Bea was easy, but laden with something else .

“They get under your skin, these Winchesters, huh?” Bea laughed against Cas' side after a while, grinning like an idiot at a complicated little jump Sam did to snatch the ball away from Dean.

Cas nodded in agreement, just once, eyes trained on Dean as he jumped for the same hoop and wriggled away from Sam’s outstretched hands, raising his arms and cheering to himself as he looked over at Cas with a wide smile at his own success.

Bea glanced up at him slightly but Cas wasn't paying attention to her, and her own attention was immediately drawn back to Sam's shriek, laughing as he swung from the hoop after another successful dunk.

“Sam is a good man, Bea.” Cas said, and it was not to state the obvious; he was not blind to the growing feelings between them both.

“I know.” she replied quietly, her voice uncertain though her face blushed, eyes still firmly forward on the court in front of them.

“He cares for you. Very much,” Cas added with a smile. “And I am certain that you feel the same.”

She shook her head, but it wasn’t to disagree with him. “I don’t know, Cas. I mean. I’m… we’re... it’s a good thing, but…” and she dropped her hands with a soft thud against her lap. “He's too good for me,” she said then, looking up at him wistfully before snatching her eyes away again. “And I can't... you know how I am about trust.”

Cas nudged his shoulder against her, waiting for her to make eye contact. “He is not 'too good' for you. He is just… good enough. I would... be comfortable if you were to-”

“Stop it right there, Cas,” she laughed, bumping a soft closed fist against his knee. “Don't bring out the big brother tone just yet. I’m not quite ready for that,”

Cas grinned in a way that Bea couldn’t help returning, before dipping his head. “I would, of course, threaten to break his legs, or any other bone in his body that you chose, were he to hurt you. Just so you know,” and she fought not to smile at that, lost the battle, snorting out a small laugh at his words.

“I wish you would allow yourself to be happy, Bea.” he said earnestly, twisting very slightly towards her again so that her knee rested against his thigh.

Bea hummed, neither to agree or disagree, and leaned her head down on his shoulder. “And I wish you'd do the same, Cas.”

Cas smiled down at the top of her head, then looked back over at Dean. “I am happy.”

“Yeah. Happy enough . But... Dean...”

And Cas tensed against her immediately.

“Dean,” she pressed on. “Come on, Cas. There is absolutely no need to pretend to me. You look at him like he put the stars in your sky. And you know how much I hate that stupid expression,” she grinned up at him with another nudge into his side.

For a moment, Cas looked at her in silence, before turning his gaze once more to the court. When he spoke again his voice was barely audible, and filled with doubt. “Dean would not want-”

“Oh Dean wants,” Bea cut him off with a sharp laugh. “ God , Dean wants you, Cas,” stretching out her words with heavy emphasis. “It's so obvious I feel... unclean when you two look at each other.”

Cas’ throat constricted a little and Bea’s mouth twitched in amusement to see him blush.

“You're just... you two... you're both stubborn. And scared. And have this… hero complex, where you won't let yourself have what you really want. It’s stupid,” she finished, not hiding the frustration she felt at him from her voice.

“I don't believe-”

“You didn't see him, Cas. When you left. When you stopped answering for a while. When we thought...” and Bea’s voice grew small, remembering an awful couple of weeks a month or so ago when Cas had all but disappeared on them. Dean’s frantic worrying and non-stop snapping had pushed them all beyond their limits, with so many of Dean’s comments and actions highlighting his blatant need for Cas, that Bea felt completely vindicated in her suspicions that there was more behind Dean’s fear than mere friendship.

“When we thought we’d lost you…” And Bea’s voice trailed away with a whisper. Cas glanced down, and the look on her face made him instantly wrap an arm around her, gripping her tightly against him in reassurance.

“I am fine, Bea. You should be more concerned about yourself. You all should,” as though he couldn’t quite believe they were all being so careless, despite them working day and night to try and bring this situation to an end.

Bea rolled her eyes. “I think there’s room to have concern for you too, alright? Quit changing the subject on me anyway,” she chastised him, leaning a little more into his side. “Trust me, Cas. He wants you. Question is… will you allow yourself to be happy?”

Cas gave away nothing with his expression. “I would ask the same of you, Bea.”

“Hey,” she told him, “I went on a date with Sam, didn’t I? I mean. We’ve been on dates. Several of them. As much as this weird little existence allows for, you know?”

Cas grinned, his eyes dancing with amusement that made her blush, groan, and lean her head back down on his arm to avoid his teasing eyes. “I know.” he agreed after a moment, pressing his lips against her hair and turning his gaze to Sam.

“So it’s your turn. Go out. Date. Do… you know,” and she nudged him with a wink that had Cas huffing out in embarrassment at.

His eyes immediately flew to Dean. “I would not know what to do,” Cas admitted after avoiding her stare for as long as he could.

She groaned against him then, shaking her head, though inside she gave a cheer of celebration at what seemed to finally be an admission of his feelings. “God, we're a mess, Cas. What would either of them want with us anyway,” she laughed, and it was at that point that each Winchester looked over with smiles for them both.

***

“Is this where we get all big brotherly and tell our siblings to behave themselves?” Dean joked to Cas as Sam and Bea leaned into each other in the other room, oblivious to he and Cas watching them.

Sam's face was a picture of happiness as Bea reached up on tiptoes and claimed a kiss from him. His arms pulled her close, cradling her protectively against him whilst dipping his head down further to kiss her back.

Cas' gaze on them was full of affection and wrapped around a huge smile. There had been several weeks since Bea and Cas’ conversation about their favourite Winchesters, and he was pleased to see her so happy, even though he felt unable to pursue that happiness for himself.

“If Bea truly were my sister, I can think of no other person I would trust her with more than Sam,” Cas said honestly after a little silence, turning back to glance at Dean.

Dean laughed, nodding his head with weary agreement. “They're ridiculous. Good for each other. Can’t keep their hands off each other.” He made a gagging sound that had Cas laughing lightly. “But ridiculous,” Dean smiled at him then, and Cas couldn’t help wonder what else was hidden there behind his guarded expression.

“We are all ridiculous at times, Dean.” Cas said reasonably, inclining his head.

Dean nodded in agreement. “True enough.”

“Including us,” Cas added, a spark in his eyes that Dean didn’t know quite what to make of.

“Yeah, Cas. Including us.” Dean said, offering him a wistful smile before glancing away quickly.

For a while they were silent, and Cas found himself aching to believe Bea’s words, that perhaps Dean felt something for him too. Even though he didn’t dare to believe it. Even though he didn’t believe he deserved it, at all.

Starting and restarting a conversation in his mind, Cas cleared his throat, turning a fraction back towards Dean as he did.

“What you said before, Dean. About not being able to lose me.” Cas began, pinning him with a stare that made it impossible for Dean to look away.

Dean’s eyes grew wide, then cautious, before nodding in agreement. “I meant it, Cas. I mean, I mean it. Been too close, Cas. Too many times.”

Cas smiled, but it was a grim set line, although after a moment, his expression softened as he admitted, “You know of course that I feel the same. I could not bear to lose you either.”

“What are we doing, Cas?” Dean sighed, dropping his hands down between his legs and clutching them there as he looked away from Cas.

Cas swallowed awkwardly and looked over worriedly at him. “Dean?”

“C'mon.” And Dean snapped his head back to glance at Cas in a way that made him ache. Of course he knew what Cas was thinking. And it was clear as anything in Dean’s eyes that he was thinking the same.

Cas continued to stare back at him, before closing his eyes with an unconscious groan. “I don't know what to do, Dean. This… attraction-”

“It's more than just attraction , Cas. There's more to this thing with us than that. We keep... denying it, for whatever reason. But I'm kinda tired of playing the game now. Looking at them,” he nodded over to Bea and Sam, still wrapped around each other. “And everything that's going on with you.”

Dean slapped his hands down by his sides, wondering if Cas could hear the way his heart was beating out erratically because of their words.

“Aren't you tired of it, Cas?” he asked finally, voice pleading, when Cas seemed unable to speak.

Cas stared at him, unmoving, still not ready to chance to believe he was actually hearing what Dean was saying to him.

“Cas,” Dean prompted when he continued to remain silent. “I kinda just opened my heart to you there. Anything you wanna add?” Dean offered him a watery smile, and Cas swallowed uncomfortably again, but nodded slowly back at him.

“I am. I am… tired of this, Dean. So tired. But I am also afraid.”

Dean’s entire face seemed to relax with utter relief, but his body contradicted that image by remaining rigid, and anxious as he waited for Cas to speak.

“Of what?”

“You are already a distraction to me, Dean. As I suspect I am to you,” and Cas blushed at the thought of that being true, which Dean fought hard against smiling at, and failed.

“And if we… act. On this. Now. It will just be that much more difficult if something were to happen to me. I would not cause you unnecessary pain, Dean. Ever. if I could avoid it.” Cas’ eyes were pleading as he silently asked for Dean’s understanding.

Dean sighed, nodding in weary agreement. “Yeah. Yeah, I get that. I do . But Cas?”

Cas looked at him, clueless as to what he might be about to say. “There's never gonna be a 'right time' for this. That's just not how our lives are.”

***

Dean's words were playing on Cas’ mind long after they had all gone to bed. Dean was right, of course. But Cas had never really given in to anything just for himself before. So he found he really didn’t know what he was supposed to do here - that he really wasn’t just stalling for time - now that he’d admitted to what he’d long wanted to have more than anything, but never thought he could. Or how he'd ever deal with losing it if something went wrong.

Dean had been beneath his skin for so long now, that he had convinced himself that the constant, unrequited longing was just a part of the package for caring about those in his charge. He thought that by resisting the draw he felt to Dean, he was protecting him somehow, even though he could now recognise that this denial was doing neither of them any good.

He found he was not able to deny himself tonight.

Cas walked silently through the bunker that had come to feel like a home to him. He paused outside of Dean's room, taking an uncharacteristic breath to steady himself, staring at the door as though it might attack him, and knocked.

“It's open,” Dean called, at which Cas turned the handle instantly then stepped through, wanting to smile at the way Dean did a double take at seeing him standing there awkwardly in the doorway.

“You are not sleeping,” Cas observed, closing the door softly behind him and leaning back against it.

“No, not yet,” Dean said, putting down the book he'd been reading, eyeing him carefully and trying to keep his expression blank. “What's up?”

“I could,” Cas started hesitantly. “I could watch over you tonight, Dean. I could stay here. If you would like.”

Dean was not entirely sure what Cas was suggesting but nodded anyway, not wanting to risk pushing him away with misunderstandings. He watched as Cas removed his trenchcoat and folded it awkwardly over the back of a chair, then shrugged out of his jacket and kicked off his shoes, walking around to the empty side of the bed.

Cas slowly lowered himself down, back pressed against the headboard and his legs stretched out straight in front of him. Dean swallowed awkwardly to see that, with his eyes dragging a slow path down the full length of Cas where he sat. Holding his breath a little, Dean moved himself over, shuffling his way back to sit beside him, just out of reach.

Cas extended a shaky hand towards Dean, and Dean accepted it instantly, wrapping Cas’ fingers around his own. Dean twisted enough for his knee to press lightly into Cas mid thigh, dropping his forehead forward and down on to Cas’ shoulder.

Cas let out a relieved sigh the second Dean’s head landed, letting his own head drop down on top, before squeezing Dean’s hand back. “Dean,” he breathed out urgently, making Dean tilt his head up sharply, to find Cas’ gaze settling on his lips. “I don’t know… I don’t…”

Cas’ words trailed away uncertainly, and Dean brought up his free hand to cup against Cas’ face, still giving Cas the space in case he needed it. Looking terrified, Cas leaned the short distance it took to kiss him, his eyes fluttering closed as Dean slid his hand round to the back of Cas’ head, and he was finally kissing him back.

Dean let out a small moan at the feel of Cas’ lips against his, and Cas pulled back slightly with an expression of shock, and happy surprise.

“Cas,” Dean whispered, pausing for a second, and then surged forward, nudging Cas’ mouth open with his own. He found himself pressing up against Cas as much as possible, and Cas’ arm slipped around to pull him that little bit closer still. “You don’t know how long I’ve thought about doing this,” he admitted with a mumble against his lips, before claiming them again.

Their kiss became frantic, as though making up for lost time and in fear of what it might be to never have this again. Dean lay a hand on Cas’ hip, nudging softly there to show him he wanted him to move. They shuffled awkwardly down the bed, and Dean rolled completely on top of Cas, groaning as Cas parted his legs to let him lay fully between them.

With a soft roll of his hips, Cas let out a choked gasp, his hands up and under Dean’s shirt one moment, then pressing hard around his ass the next so that he could grind up against him. Dean answered with another moan, bracketing Cas’ face between his elbows and kissing him with all that he had.

When Dean eventually fell asleep much later, his head was on Cas' chest, and his fingers rested just beneath the edge of Cas’ t-shirt. Cas held him protectively in his arms and stared up at the ceiling, unable to stop himself replaying every moment of what had just happened between them. Sneaking a kiss into Dean’s hair and feeling him stir contentedly against him, Cas cautiously allowed himself to feel that this might be a good thing for them both.

***

  
  
  



	10. Chapter 10

“How long’ve you got?”

Dean looked at Cas, hunched over in sheer exhaustion, and frowned deeply in concern that he debated with himself about expressing out loud.

Surely, Dean asked himself, exhaustion wasn’t something that Cas, as an angel, should ever be feeling. Even if he was currently being stalked and threatened at an unrelenting pace.

Dean couldn’t tell whether this new thing between them had made him even more aware of every one of Cas’ nuances, or if the fatigue he saw in Cas now was there with renewed vigour. Either way, seeing Cas suffering as he clearly was, was painful for Dean to have to witness. Especially when there was so little he could himself do to help.

On top of his fears for Cas came Dean’s crushing insecurities. It had only been a couple of days since Dean had fallen asleep in Cas’ arms, and Dean hadn’t been able to prevent himself breaking out in a grin every time he thought of it, which was getting to be all the time. But Dean’s mind was cruel, and already spinning out a story of how much Cas might be regretting what had happened between them. He wondered if that regret was adding to Cas’ general state of weariness, and felt himself flooding with guilt.

Since Cas had left, he’d called just once, his voice scratchy, and breathless, having had yet another near miss with Kushiel. These near misses were getting impossibly frequent, and Dean didn’t know how much longer it would be before time would be up, and they’d be looking to rescue Cas, instead of trying to prevent whatever Kushiel planned to do to him.

Dean’s thoughts were a mess. His fears for Cas because of Kushiel, and his fears for himself that Cas might now turn away from him, fought for dominance, leaving him heavy-limbed with tiredness and yet unable to let himself relax at all.

Cas closed his eyes, his tortured face doing nothing to ease Dean’s fears. “I should not have come.”

Dean found himself slumping a little as though his worst fears had just been confirmed, and smiled sadly with a defeated nod. “Couldn’t keep away from Bea, huh? C’mon, man, a little trust. You know we’ll keep her safe,” Dean sat up a little straighter, creating a gap between them as he tried to keep his voice light and carefree. He winced as he heard it break somewhere in the middle of his words, and allowed himself the smallest of glances over at Cas’ face.

Cas’ eyes grew wide, and he blinked in confusion. “Actually,” he began, his voice uncertain, as though he was worried he had made some kind of mistake. “I found that I couldn’t keep away from  _ you _ , Dean. I cannot stop thinking about you, or seeing you, or being with-” Cas cut himself off with a sigh, and smiled wider, although it was still tinged with sadness. “I told you that you were a distraction,”

It was Dean’s turn to look incredulous, and before he could acknowledge the beating of his heart or how much those words meant to him, Dean was reaching out, pulling Cas across the space between them and into a kiss.

Cas sighed into it at once, bringing up his arms to rest his hands on Dean’s face and hold him there, closing his eyes and pressing himself back against Dean at every point he could.

Dean’s arms gripped around Cas tight as though he planned on never letting him out of them again, kissing him as if that alone could convey everything he was thinking and feeling. He flicked his tongue against Cas’ lips, groaning hungrily at Cas’ gasp, and closed his own eyes as Cas opened up his mouth to him.

Their grip on each other tightened and the desperation of their kiss grew, clinging as though they feared this might be their one and only chance at it, just like they had last time. Because with everything that was going on, they both had to acknowledge that it truly might.

When Cas pulled back breathlessly, his expression was nothing but torn, and Dean’s heart pounded, finally allowing himself to believe that Cas wanted him just as much as he himself wanted Cas.

“I have to go, Dean,” Cas said shakily, leaning in to kiss him again despite his own words as though he was unable to actually drag himself away. “I only came back to…” his eyes fell to Dean’s lips briefly, “To…”

“I don’t want you to,” Dean pleaded in between kisses, even though he knew it was both unfair and impossible. “I don’t want you to leave…”

“I want to stay. Believe me, Dean, I  _ do  _ want that.” Cas continued kissing him back hard, taking all of him that he could.

Dean sighed, wrapped his arms tightly around Cas in a hug that was full of promise and expectation. “So when this is over. Tell me you’ll stay. With me,” Dean added, his voice shy and yet hopeful. He had to keep strong, to act as though he already knew the outcome of what was happening, even if confident was the last thing he felt.

Even in that moment, at their most intimate, Cas couldn’t bring it upon himself to hope completely. It hurt, too much, to finally know that all he felt for Dean was acknowledged, and readily returned, and was so close to being wrenched away from him. “I will try,” is all he could offer, kissing him once more before forcing himself to stand, still clasping around Dean’s hands as he did. He squeezed Dean’s fingers briefly between his, staring down at him for a second with such longing that Dean found himself leaning up towards him, before disappearing again to leave Dean staring back at where Cas had been, alone.

***

“I’m nothing special!” Bea said, groaning out in incredulous frustration, for what felt to Sam and Dean like the hundredth time. “I don’t have any magical powers, I’ve no control over this... thing. All I’m useful for is fitting like a glove - none of this is about me. I'm  _ nothing _ here. I’m not worth this much effort.” Bea sighed out angrily again, and Sam glanced over at Dean as they sat in silence watching her pace back and forth in front of them.

Cas hadn’t contacted any of them for more than a week since he’d last visited Dean, and the panic and fear they all felt was making them snappy and irritable with each other.

While Sam and Dean continued to look through every scrap of information they could find, Bea’s way of coping was to blame herself completely for what was happening.

Bea continued pacing, one moment her arms folded tight against her chest, and the next spinning out in sheer impatience at her sides.

“I hate that he’s out there running ‘cos of me. I  _ hate  _ it. I hate that it’s… it’s even _ necessary  _ , and that I can’t do a thing to help him. I  _ hate _ it,”

Dean and Sam could do nothing but sit there and watch helplessly.

Finally, after about twenty minutes of ranting and raving and what seemed like no let up, she came to an abrupt stop, dropping herself down on the couch between them heavily and lulling her head onto Sam’s shoulder with a loud moan of frustration. Dean linked his fingers through hers on her lap and pressed a kiss on to her hair, smiling for a moment at the way Sam stared down at her with affection and concern.

“Hey.” Dean said, leaning into her side. “Don’t matter if you’ve got control over this thing or not. It’s happening to you. It has happened to you. You don’t think Cas is out there going through this, because he is absolutely not going to let you go through what you went through as a kid again?” Dean said, reaching across and gripping tightly to her free hand, trying to keep his own personal fears silent in case they came out unkind, and bitter. Because he truly didn’t mean it like that, not at all. But the thought of what might happen to Cas stretched his ability to rationalise to its limits, so Dean did the best thing he could do in the situation, and stayed silent on the subject as much as he could.

Bea groaned in a mixture of annoyance and guilt, peering up at Dean out of the corner of her eye. “How’re you holding up?” she asked, half-expecting him to come up with some kind of flippant remark to disguise what he was really feeling.

Instead, Bea watched the way his throat clenched around a painful swallow, as though he was close to breaking down. Dean closed his eyes in anguish, letting his head fall back hard against the sofa. “It’s killing me,” he muttered up into the air. “It’s killing me that we’re so useless with this. And that he’s out there, alone. But we’ve gotta stay strong, Bea,” He opened his eyes a fraction to her, not lifting his head. “We’ve gotta. He’s out there, okay? And he’s gonna be okay. And when he comes back…” his voice trailed away, broken with doubt, despite his words.

Bea gave him all the comfort she could in that moment by gently squeezing his hand.

“You’ll tell him. Won’t you?” she told him with certainty, studying his expression. “You’ll tell him how you feel.”

Dean turned a little to smile at her, winking half-heartedly through still half-closed eyes. “Oh trust me. He knows,” he managed with a laugh at the way her mouth dropped open at his words, before letting his head fall back again. “But yeah. We get through this? I’ll never stop telling him.”

***

Cas had been on the run before. He had established a routine, become familiar with the constant need to be on alert, and adapted to hiding when it was necessary. Thousands of years as a warrior had taught him the instinct to fight, to charge forward relentlessly. But a few years of existing amongst humans had also taught him the valuable skill of knowing when to hold back.

At least, he tried to do that, when it seemed most important to.

His senses told him he was clear at least for now, and he took the moment to allow a deep, internal sigh. Immediately his thoughts turned to ‘home’, and he realised with a pang that hooked right through his stomach, that what Dean had once told him about home not having to be a fixed location, was nothing but true.

He looked at the picture on the front of the postcard that he was mailing, his way of letting them know that he was okay, and smiled sadly with all the longing that he felt.

He missed them all: Bea, because she felt part of him, Dean, because he wanted, needed, and loved him, despite that only being a recent thing he’d allowed himself to admit, and Sam, because Sam was the closest thing he had to a brother. It made the pain of what was to come a little easier, knowing they were all at least together should the worst happen.

Because he knew he was running out of options.

He could give it all up, for them.

***

“What time is it?”

Sam gave a wordless mumble at Bea’s sleepy question and pressed a kiss against her bare shoulder.

“Too early to move,” he suggested, smiling as she tilted her head to kiss his chest and snuggled down further in his arms, which he tightened around her easily.

“You would say that,” she half-grumbled into his skin, kissing him there again.

“Sure I would. Give me one reason why I’d want to leave this bed?” he asked, squeezing her lightly.

“Um…” she tried, but failed to come up with an answer. Instead she moved, shrugging out of his arms and straddling his lap so quick that Sam let out a soft laugh of surprise. His hands wrapped easily around her thighs as she leaned forward to place an open kiss on his mouth, before sitting back up again. Sliding her fingers under his palms, she pressed them together and lifted them, smiling as though she would never get over how giant his hands were compared to hers.

Sam sat up slowly, hands back down by his sides, before sliding up her thighs again to rest on her hips, smirking his way into another kiss.

“Nope. I’ve got nothing,” Bea mumbled against him, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck and pressing herself completely against him. “Although,” she added, despite the way Sam rocked himself up against her and how good that felt, “Dean…”

And now Sam’s moan was one of complaint, slumping his forehead against her shoulder in defeat.

When Cas had started sending postcards to let them know he was at least still out there somewhere even if he couldn’t make it back to them, Sam didn’t know whether to feel relief or more fear. Dean held each of the cards delicately as though they were about to disintegrate beneath his fingers, and Sam knew they were being carefully stacked on Dean’s bedside cabinet, imagining with sadness that Dean must be looking them over every single night.

Too many cards, indicating too long since Cas had been back, and too many locations that he was having to pass through whilst on the run.

The last card had been a few days ago, and Dean was visibly becoming more desperate. Bea found that seeing Dean suffer like he did gave her a new, unexpected strength. Because not only was she proved right about how much Dean and Cas cared about each other, but her needing to be protective of Dean made her mute her own concerns, at least for a while.

Last night Dean had finally broken; Bea had found him sat on the hood of the Impala in front of the bunker, fingers wrapped firmly around a half-empty bottle of whiskey and tears running steady and unchecked down his cheeks. She had instantly scrambled her way up to him, a hand on his arm letting him know she was there if he needed, not knowing if he would want her there at all.

Almost immediately he had let out a sob of sheer frustration and leaned forward, falling into her arms awkwardly as the bottle cluttered shrill against the metal of the hood.

With a lot of coaxing Bea had persuaded him to come back inside, where Sam walked silently beside them both with his hand resting on Dean’s shoulder as they guided him to his bed.

“He’s probably still asleep,” Sam said, but was already on the move, and holding his hands out so that Bea could stand up.

Bea smiled in agreement, leaning up on tiptoe to kiss him. “Probably. Think we might convince him to get up and eat something?” she asked, twisting her mouth in concern.

Sam slid his hands down her sides, holding on softly as he kissed her back, secretly loving how much she was worrying about Dean, as though they really were all family already. “I know how persuasive you are,” he teased, earning himself another kiss.

“Well,” she said, tilting her head to one side and viewing him with amusement, “I have a whole other set of persuasive tactics to use on you,” she promised, running her fingers down his chest and resting them against his stomach.

“Oh yeah?”

“Uh huh,” she smiled, leaning completely against him, hands brushing to the side and slipping around his back.

“You know,” Sam said after some time, turning her softly until her legs bumped the back of the bed, “I think what Dean deserves right now is a good, long sleep.”

Bea smirked, going willingly as he laid her back down on the bed and loomed over her. “You know, now that I think of it? Breakfast can be a little later,”

***

“Where’ve you been?” Dean asked brokenly, pulling Cas impossibly closer to rest his head on his chest, and wrapped his arms tightly around him.

Cas had finally showed up in the bunker, more weary looking than ever, and collapsed into Dean’s arms in sheer relief. When Cas had eventually straightened up from where his head fell against the crook of Dean’s neck, Dean had grabbed his face and kissed him hard, and long, and not caring for a second about the surprised noises coming out of Sam and Bea’s mouths mere feet away from them.

He’d let go of Cas barely long enough for the briefest of hugs from both Bea and Sam, then half-marched him to his room and firmly closed the door behind them, with no intention of letting anything interrupt them any time soon.

“It feels like everywhere,” Cas gave him softly, pressing his nose gently into Dean’s skin and breathing deep.

Dean smiled down at him, leaning a little to kiss the top of his head as his hands ran down his sides to curve at his waist. “Doing what? Research?”

Cas nodded against him, working his fingers up under the hem of Dean’s t-shirt to brush lightly over his skin. “Yes. Research. Running. I have tried to help where I could,” he added absently, sighing at the feel of Dean’s hands running over his back under his shirt.

“Helping?” Dean asked, unable to stop himself kissing Cas wherever he could reach. “Helping who?”

Cas shrugged a little, giving a soft sigh of contentment as Dean rubbed small circles into his shoulder blades. “I helped where I could. There was a sick mother in the village I believed there to be a text that would provide information about shielding Bea. I healed her so that she could return to work, to provide for her children.”

Dean felt himself beaming with pride; Cas truly had no idea how good he really was, and the way he spoke about these things that he had done as if they were no greater a gesture than holding a door open. “Who else?”

Cas shrugged again, his attention at that moment turned entirely to the noises Dean made as he nuzzled up into his neck. “An orphanage had an outbreak of strep throat. The nuns allowed me access to their vault of scriptures that I believed to be of use. They were not,” he said, tiredly, melting into Dean’s touch.

“But you healed them anyway, huh?”

“Of course.”

Dean laid a hand flat against the small of Cas’ back, the other reaching to tilt his head up.

Leaned forward, Dean tilted his head and kissed him, open mouthed, and full of want. “You go and do all these things, Cas, even though you’re putting yourself at risk,” he said, continuing his kisses and still stroking a hand up and down Cas’ back. “You do all this, for strangers. For Bea. And I know, for all of us too, and yet you’ve just… you don’t  _ know  _ , Cas.”

Dean kissed him again, closing his eyes. “How can I ever be good enough for you when you’re all…  _ this  _ ?” Dean said, bewildered, as though he couldn’t quite believe he had Cas right there in his arms, and even more so that Cas was there willingly.

Cas stared back at him, speechless. “Dean,”

Dean just shook his head and continued. “You have no idea, Cas. No idea how much you mean to me,” Dean whispered against his lips, rolling himself up against him, his hands slipping to grip him closer still.

“You are everything to me, Dean. Everything.” Cas kissed him back with desperation, as though he could force Dean to realise the truth of his words. “You have sacrificed so much, for this world, for those you care about. I believe it is me who should feel inadequate.”

“Never, Cas. How can you even think that?” Dean kissed him harder, flicking his tongue against Cas’ and raising his hand to run through his hair, as though he couldn’t touch enough of him at once.

“I want you, Dean,” Cas told him urgently, grinding down against him and looping his hands underneath Dean’s knees to part his legs a little more, supporting himself awkwardly on Dean’s chest as he fell forwards.

“I want you,” Dean replied thickly, “And I don’t want you to leave. Please don’t leave, Cas,” he begged, desperation making his voice crack.

“I have to,” Cas gasped as Dean’s fingers worked their way between them and fumbled Cas’ fly open, “You know that I must,”

Dean pushed down Cas’ boxers, gasping as Cas sprung free against him. He looked down at Cas’ cock with undisguised need, before wrapping his hand firmly around him, sucking his tongue into his mouth as Cas moaned out at his touch. Cas pulled back enough so that Dean could free himself, and shifted so that Dean could grip them both in his hand, glancing down with a choked gasp as they slid together against his palm.

Cas curled himself up just enough so that Dean had room to stroke them freely, but not so far that he couldn’t still kiss him, moaning into Dean’s mouth and unable to stop himself thrusting into Dean’s hand.

It was fast, and desperate, and over too quickly for them both, coming with stuttered gasps and arching into one another in need.

Afterwards, when they’d cleaned themselves up enough to zip their flies back up, Dean pleaded with Cas again to stay. And Cas repeated that he couldn’t, with such sorrow in his voice that Dean was lost, and had to kiss it all away. Because Dean understood, of course he did. But it didn’t mean he wouldn’t keep asking him, or lying awake late into the night remembering the feel of Cas on him long after he had gone.

***

  
  
  



	11. Chapter 11

“What aren’t you telling me, Cas?”

Dean turned his head enough to watch Cas in profile as he stared up at the ceiling by his side. He saw the way he swallowed awkwardly, darting his eyes over to Dean for a second before guiltily snatching them away again.

Dean breathed out heavily and fumbled across the small gap between them on the bed, slotting his fingers down between Cas’ and giving them a soft squeeze. Turning on to his side, he was pleased to see Cas instantly mirror his movements, and rested his other hand on Cas’ hip whilst bringing up their joined hands between them to place a kiss there over Cas’ knuckles.

Cas reached out for Dean without making eye contact, running his hand possessively down his back and tugging him a little closer with a sigh.

“We said no more secrets, Cas.” Dean said with difficulty, feeling a lump forming in his throat at the distance he felt from Cas in that moment. “Especially now. Especially with what’s… I don’t know. Happened.  _ Is  _ happening between us,” Dean’s voice was sad, and Cas looked up in complete sorrow before leaning over and kissing him softly, lingering there with only the barest of gaps between their lips.

Perhaps this thing between them hadn’t been that long, Dean reflected as he watched Cas still avoiding his gaze. But despite that, he already felt as though he knew enough about Cas, and his more intimate responses and gestures, to know when he was seeking comfort from him, and when he was trying to avoid saying things they’d both prefer to be left unsaid, or untrue.

Dean closed his eyes, recognised the latter, and tried not to get distracted by how good it felt having Cas’ bare skin under his fingertips, focusing instead on wordlessly giving Cas the reassurance he needed to continue with whatever he was having trouble getting out.

“You are correct. There  _ is  _ something I haven’t told you, Dean. I apologise that I am still keeping secrets from you after agreeing that I would not. I hope you can forgive me when I explain.” Cas glanced up at him hopefully, but his eyes already spoke of his fear that Dean would turn him away.

Dean squeezed his hand around Cas’ and tapped his fingers against his waist, his mouth setting in a grim line. “Go on,”

Cas played with Dean’s fingers absently, staring at their joined hands as though they could give him strength. Then he shuffled a little on his side, untangling their fingers and bringing his arm up to support his head against the pillow, keeping his gaze firmly away from Dean.

Dean let his own head drop down further into the pillow, his now-free thumb reaching out to stroke against Cas’ chest.

“There is a way to stop this,” Cas said, looking down to where his hand curved around Dean’s hip. “There has always been a way to stop this. I have merely been too selfish… too…  _ afraid  _ … to do it.”

Dean ignored the way his heart thudded in protest, swallowed thickly, and nodded for him to continue.

Cas continued his studying, shifting himself a little closer to Dean whilst sliding his leg across the sheets to brush against Dean’s. “I told you that without my grace, Bea cannot be used as a vessel.”

“You did,” Dean agreed, unsure what else to say, but sliding his hand down from Cas’ waist to rest against his thigh in what he hoped was a comforting gesture.

“If my grace is gone, Bea would be effectively shut off from possession entirely. Angels…  _ anyone…  _ they could still try, but it would be virtually impossible. I could make it impossible,” Cas still seemed unable to look up at Dean’s face, eyes now drifting up and over his chest, stopping resolutely at his neck.

“What do you mean by ‘gone’?” Dean narrowed his eyes in suspicion although Cas couldn’t see it, and he felt an awful, sinking feeling settling hard on his stomach.

For another moment, Cas was silent, avoiding looking Dean in the eye entirely. And then he sagged forward, leaning to rest their foreheads together, plainly seeking something from him that he was afraid Dean wouldn’t be able to give.

Dean’s feeling of dread deepened, and he swallowed thickly again, not able to control that lump from forming and reforming in his throat. He could see, without any doubt at all judging by Cas’ actions, that he wasn’t going to like what was coming in the slightest.

“Dean.” Cas began softly. “If I were to give up my grace. If I were to cease to be an angel. Bea would be safe. This would be over.”

Dean sucked in a harsh breath, holding it unthinkingly. Though he’d not seen that coming, now that Cas had said it out loud, Dean wondered if he should have recognised it as a possibility all along. His stomach rolled in sickness which he swallowed back yet again, trying to force it down. “Cas…” he tried, but Cas kept his eyes resolutely anywhere but on Dean’s face.

“I have always known this to be a possible outcome, Dean. But I never thought… I never wanted…” Cas’ voice grew quieter. “I have always been too selfish.”

Dean ran his hand back up Cas side and pulled him as close as he possibly could, kissing him on his temple, closing his eyes as Cas’ head nudged his own up so he could rest it in the crook of his neck. “That is not selfish, Cas,” he told the back of Cas’ head, because in that moment and from that slightly awkward angle, it was all he could see. “Not at all. Not giving up your _ self  _ for someone like that.”

He felt Cas shake his head against him beneath his chin, with Cas’ hair snagging on his stubble as he moved. “It  _ is  _ selfish, Dean. It has always been a selfish act. I could have taken her out of harm’s way many years ago. Instead of… allowing her… to be used…” Cas’ voice was laden with self-loathing at that, and Dean pressed a kiss into the side of his head, shaking his head yet again.

“It isn’t, Cas.”

“It  _ is  _ , Dean.” Cas insisted, looking up at him then with such guilt in his eyes that Dean flinched. “When I first met Bea. I could have stopped all of this then.”

“So could any other angel,” Dean pointed out, trying to make him see reason. “You didn’t even know that this was gonna happen back then either. But you, you tried to keep her safe. You protected her.”

“I protected her but still kept her capacity as a tool, Dean. I used her. Perhaps I am worse than any of the angels that are seeking to possess her.” Cas found it impossible to maintain eye contact with him, despite Dean doing all he could to try to get him to do so. Dean stroked his hand down Cas’ side again, still attempting to give some kind of comfort, curling it there around his hip.

“At first. I felt the urge to protect her, that is true. But I also saw the potential there. It was wrong of me, Dean,” Cas implored, as though he needed confirmation of just how wrong he had been with his choices.

“It was instinctual, from what you’ve told me,” Dean mumbled into Cas’ skin, holding him as close as possible and wondering how he was ever going to get through to him when Cas was so adamant about his own failure, and weakness.

“But in time. I grew to care for her. I began to regard her as… I felt affection for her that I had never known before. I needed to care for her, to ensure her well-being.” Cas’ voice grew a little soft when speaking about Bea, and for that, Dean allowed himself to smile.

Dean nuzzled against him when Cas didn’t speak for a while. “Family, Cas. That’s what that feeling was. Nothing wrong with learning that. You’d never had that before, not in a human sense, anyway. How would you know otherwise?”

Cas sighed heavily, then nudged against Dean’s shoulder to make him roll on to his back. Cas looked at him for a second, and Dean couldn’t quite read the conflicting emotions written across his face as he sank himself down on Dean’s chest with a huff, wriggling against him so Dean would know to wrap his arms around him.

“I did not understand this… softening. This… fondness, I began to feel for Bea. For humanity.” Cas said carefully, speaking into Dean’s skin and occasionally rubbing his stubbled chin there because he had learned how much Dean liked it. “I only began to understand that when I met you, Dean. When I raised you. When I saw you. With Sam. With Bobby. With all of the people in your life. I observed you all. But you,” Cas smiled shyly as he glanced up, but there was pain behind it, barely concealed.

“You changed me, Dean. You did. You made me feel things I had never experienced before. I felt  _ weak  _ for it, and fought against it to begin with, fearing it was something that would lessen me. But in time, I realised that was wrong. Dean, you  _ strengthen  _ me.”

Cas raised his head and smiled slightly brighter then, genuine with happiness and a light in his eyes at the blush, the bewilderment on Dean’s face. “Dean. You made me realise that humanity... It is the point to everything. It is worth… everything. I no longer fear falling, because you have taught me that to fall is not the end.”

Dean frowned, but smiled, confused and comforted by Cas’ words, yet still not completely understanding the point Cas was trying to make.

“At any point in the time I have known you. That I have learned what it is to be human. I could have saved Bea. I could have protected her long ago. I chose not to.”

Dean understood Cas’ frustration at himself, and nodded his head slowly to show that. “But Cas. I mean I get what you’re saying, but. It’s… it’s not like she’s been in this kind of danger before, right? I mean technically it’s  _ you  _ that’s in danger now, yeah? Kushiel wants to carve out your grace so he can use her, sure, but he can’t do anything without you, right?”

“Correct.”

“So… Cas. Seriously. This isn’t like… giving blood. Or even... giving up a kidney for someone. You give up your grace… that’s it for you, right?”

“I would cease to exist as an angel, yes. And if I survived… I would be mortal. Human.” Cas frowned a little at that but could add nothing.

Dean refused to hear the doubt in Cas’ voice, shaking his head adamantly. “That’s a  _ huge  _ deal, Cas. The biggest. You can’t blame yourself for not being ready for that, for looking for other options.”

Dean leaned to kiss him, cupping a hand to his face and trying to do all he could to give him reassurance. “Not selfish, Cas. Not at all.”

“It feels selfish,” Cas managed between kisses, still shaking his head in denial at Dean’s words.

“You imagine what Bea’ll say when she finds out you’re even considering this?” Dean said incredulously, feeling himself actually trembling in fear as he understood the full implication of what Cas was saying. “She’ll. You know what she’ll do. She’ll hit you, shout a lot, tell you no. She’ll give you hell, Cas. And me. And Sam, just for being a part of this. Bea won’t want that for you.”

For a moment, Cas smiled fondly, finding he could do nothing but agree with what Dean was predicting about Bea’s likely reaction. But after, he slumped back down, shaking his head once more. “We are out of options, Dean. I have been searching, as have you, for so long now. There is no alternative. We must do this.  _ I  _ must do this,”

“No, Cas,” Dean pleaded, but Cas’ expression stopped him.

“I am tired, Dean. I am so tired of running. Of existing like this. I do not know what else I can do.”

“Cas,” Dean tried, but Cas silenced him with a kiss and a sigh all in one.

“There is nothing left to do. I must prepare. I may need your assistance. With Bea. With everything.”

“What do you need?” Dean mumbled, because his voice was in danger of breaking despite him trying to keep it steady.

“There is a spell. As there is always a spell,” Cas rolled his eyes. “I must bind a part of my grace to Bea, and then destroy what is left.”

“No, Cas,” Dean begged desperately, but Cas just shook his head and smiled.

“Would it be so terrible for you to have me in your life if I were only human, Dean?” Cas’ voice was teasing, but Dean couldn’t help see the fear there in his eyes, and grabbed the back of Cas' head, pulling him forward and into a hard, unrelenting kiss.

“I want  _ you  _ , Cas,” he whispered, gasping for breath. “However you are. You don’t need to ask me that, ever.” And the kiss grew more frantic, with Dean pulling Cas to him as though he could press him into his skin for safekeeping.

“I just don’t want to lose you,” Dean choked out, before claiming his mouth again.

Cas willingly went with it, holding on just as hard, wishing the moment would last longer than it could. When he leaned back a little breathless, he brought his hands up to cup Dean’s face, and all Dean could feel was terror at the thought that this might really be it.

“It is… risky, Dean. To destroy an angel’s grace. To convert it into a soul. It. You must understand. I may not-”

Dean cut him off with the shake of his head and another kiss, adamantly refusing to hear it. “We’ll get through this,” he told him firmly, ignoring the fear that blazed through him like fire.

“And if I am not able…” Cas said, haltingly, “Then you must kill Kushiel. You must, Dean. Because either way, if I am successful or not in what I must do, he will come after you. Us. Bea.”

“We’ll do it together,” Dean answered haltingly, frantically tightening his grip on him.

Cas cupped a hand under Dean’s chin, forcing it upwards so that he had to look him directly in the eye. “You must understand, Dean. You must be prepared. If this goes wrong. If Kushiel gets to me first. I will need you to be strong.”

Cas looked at Dean with such trust, and determination, that Dean felt himself choking up all over again. Biting back a sob, he surged forward once more, claiming Cas’ mouth and touching him everywhere he could possibly reach as though committing all of him to memory.

***

  
  
  



	12. Chapter 12

“You do not know sacrifice,”

Kushiel glowered at Cas, squaring off at him threateningly, and tensed as though he would pounce at any second if Cas were to try and move.

Cas stared right back at him, unmoving. The only sign that he felt anything approaching fear was the way his fingers gripped white around the dusty book on the table before him. Kushiel was too busy sneering at him gloatingly to notice.

When Cas refused to talk, Kushiel grew even angrier. “You have nothing to say, Castiel?”

Cas’ jaw clenched under the force he exerted on himself to wait as long as was possible before answering.

Just a few hours ago, he had wrenched himself away from Dean’s arms, from Dean’s bed, saying goodbye to him with the very real possibility that he would never see him again. Before Dean, he had never experienced emotions, or questioned anything, or had reason to think that anything but duty was what made him whole.

But Dean had taught him so much about defiance, and standing up for what you believe in, and  _ having  _ something to believe in in the first place, for anything other than simple, sheer faith. Dean had schooled him in a world of living that he would otherwise have never known, and Cas would be forever grateful for that, no matter the outcome of what needed to be done.

Dean had taught him what existing really was, and what love meant. And to possibly have to give that up, that sense of  _ belonging  _ , and  _ home  _ , that he had never before had, was a bigger sacrifice to Cas than anything he could ever imagine; even bigger than willingly giving up his grace. So to have Kushiel so dismissive of all that had become so important to him was belittling, and cruel, serving only to make Cas more determined in his plan.

“I believe I know much of sacrifice, Kushiel,” he told him eventually in as calm a voice as he could manage. “More than you know, or have ever experienced.”

Kushiel laughed, angry, and cold. “Perhaps you know all about sacrificing your  _ brethren  _ for the sake of these… humans,” he seethed. “But nothing of personal sacrifice. Look at what you have become.”

Cas did indeed look, at least at his surroundings. Kushiel had him cornered here in this college library in the dead of night, and the only protection Cas had against him was the simple fact that right now, he was still useful. He couldn’t let Kushiel know what he intended because he would kill him in an instant, and he knew with absolute certainty that Kushiel would then go straight after Bea, and Sam, and Dean in nothing but vindictive revenge.

So Cas stood his ground, chin tilted in defiance. “You would destroy all, and yet you wish to speak to me of sacrifice? Tell me, Kushiel. What is your sacrifice?”

Kushiel took a step forwards, and Cas flinched but did not move. “This is my cause, my justice. My solution to fixing the plague that is the humans, and all you have done to assist them.”

Cas rested his thumb in the crease of the book as though keeping his place, and softly closed it, turning as though he was about to leave without Kushiel’s express permission. “It is not our charge, Kushiel-”

Kushiel’s arm flew out to stop him moving; Cas held as still as he possibly could, masking the emotion from his face. “Do not attempt to speak to me of what is right, Castiel. You have flown so far from that path that you will never find your way home.”

Cas tilted his head in acknowledgement. “Perhaps. I would still repeat my actions were that opportunity to be given to me again.”

“Then you are a fool. A fool hiding in archives in the dark, seeking out answers that there are not. You believe you can stop me with a few words from these books? A little spell?” Kushiel mocked him, eyeing Cas with nothing but contempt and loathing before glancing down at the book in his hand. “These humans,” he sneered, “They do not care for you, Castiel. They seek only your strength. Your power.”

Cas smiled thinly at him. “You speak as though you have spent any time amongst them, Kushiel.”

“I have seen enough.”

“Then you should know. No two humans are the same. Much as two angels are not either,” Cas said, glaring between them as though to validate his point.

Kushiel could do nothing but sneer at that. “You have long ceased to have the right to call yourself  _ angel  _ , Castiel. You are nothing but a mistake.”

When Cas had no retort to that, Kushiel flared somehow even angrier, determined to get a raise out of him one way or another. “That you care for them is to your disadvantage,” he told him disgustedly, malice emanating off of him in waves.

“I do not see it as such,” Cas shrugged slightly, his eyes never leaving Kushiel’s.

“What would happen if I were to take your pretty little girl? The corruption you call  _ sister  _ ,” he threatened, and Cas hardened his gaze at that, unable to stop himself.

“You will not. And you cannot. And it would be pointless.” he added, swallowing thickly in a way he couldn’t disguise.

Kushiel laughed loud, throwing his head back with glee that Cas was finally breaking before him. “You believe your precious  _ Winchesters. Dean  _ Winchester, can protect her from  _ me  _ ?”

“Yes,” Cas said, adamant, still not moving a muscle even though the stress began to show on his face.

“I should pity you, Castiel. For falling so low that you would allow yourself to love a human as you do.”

Cas found himself instantly relaxing at Kushiel words, closing his eyes with a soft smile. “There is no ‘allowing’ with love, Kushiel. There is no control over it. But I would have it no other way,” he told him proudly. His smile grew wider then, showing exactly how lucky he considered himself to be, knowing what love really was. “And I pity  _ you  _ for never having experienced it,” he added solemnly, although he did not really feel that at all. He was just pushing buttons and looking for a way out, just as Dean had taught him.

“You disgust me,” Kushiel spat back at him. “That you would…  _ lay  _ … with one of these…  _ animals  _ … I can smell him all over you. You are  _ tainted  _ ,”

But this only made Cas’ smile grow wider, and he allowed his memories to take him away from his present situation and right back to Dean’s bed, and how Dean had felt beneath him. And how it had felt to be inside him.

Kushiel’s scowl told Cas that he was seeing exactly what Cas was thinking about, which only made Cas smile even more.

Kushiel shuffled impatiently where he stood, seething at him in fury. His hands twitched, and Cas braced himself for rough hands around his neck, or a blast that would knock him backwards.

Instead, Kushiel just grimaced at him in complete disgust, hissing out, “I  _ will  _ have your assistance with this, Castiel. There is no other option for you,” then vanished before Cas’ eyes, leaving him slumping forward in relief at his surprising reprieve. He had been almost certain that Kushiel was going to kill him there and then, such was his rage.

The silence of the room seemed so much louder now that he was alone again, and Cas looked around him uncomfortably.

With a tremble to his breath, Cas glanced down at the page he’d been holding open, knowing there was nothing there to help him, and slowly pushed it back on to the table before vanishing himself.

***

Cas didn’t know who had taught him about sentimentality, but it was one of the less useful emotions that he’d actually grown to quite like.

That morning had found him looking out over the orphanage where Bea had grown up, smiling affectionately as he watched several young children playing a game of tag, and another group chasing a ball around. His eyes had fallen to the very spot where he had first laid eyes on Bea, and he’d wondered not for the first time how different things would have been if he’d never been drawn there in the first place. Not that he would ever change a thing.

When he’d admitted everything to Bea, about himself, about what he was planning, she had reacted exactly as Dean had thought she would. Through tears, and anger, and punching fists that Cas caught easily in his hands and held on to as she sobbed herself exhausted, Bea had given her forgiveness easier than he could ever have imagined. How could she blame him for not wanting to give all of himself, was all she’d managed to say in between her tears, and frantic hugs pressed into his chest. Why would she hate him, when the only way to save her would essentially result in his own death? A statement that just set her off crying again, and him holding on as tightly to her as he could.

Cas had been so overwhelmingly proud of the way she’d eventually nodded, stoic though afraid, when he had explained all that they must do, that he felt tears welling in his own eyes for one of the few times in his long life. With a nod and a kiss to his forehead, she had shakily told him she was ready for whatever he needed, even if it did terrify her more than she would ever voice out loud. Bea couldn’t know it, but she had given him such strength in that moment, that Cas would never have a way to show her enough gratitude.

Spurred on then, Cas had wasted no time in gathering all of the ingredients he needed for his spell, driven by Bea’s permission and his eagerness to have this nightmare end.

The one place he was drawn to more than anywhere was the bunker, and though he longed to glance on it one last time in case he failed in what he was about to do, he still held out hope that if he got through this, he would soon be going home.

So instead, his sentimentality took him to fleeting locations where he had his strongest memories of Dean. Bobby’s house, now dilapidated and broken. A motel room where he’d first sat beside Dean on his bed as he’d slept. Another, where Dean had tried to get him to open up about the carnage in heaven, despite how much he hated talking himself.

The last place Cas visited was a nameless, faceless warehouse. It was where Dean had held on to him tightly following a particularly close call during a fight, and where Cas had first allowed himself to just  _ feel  _ something for him. Cas closed his eyes in fond memory of all that he had seen, and known, wishing he had longer to remember it all.

But there was no more time for lingering now.  Evading Kushiel really had to come to an end, and Cas was as prepared in that moment as he was ever going to be.

All he needed now was Bea.

Bea looked up at him from her sofa where she sat cross legged, her eyes full of fear and a determined set to her jaw.

“We gonna do this then, Cas?” she said, scowling at herself when she heard the way her own voice trembled.

Cas nodded, and extended a hand out to her. “I will keep this as painless for you as I can, Bea,” he told her. “I cannot promise-”

“Hey,” she said softly, curling her fingers around his. “Let’s just do it, okay? Just get it done,”

Again Cas nodded, and hand in hand they walked the short distance to Bea’s dining room table. She looked at the many scattered ingredients there, the blade on the chopping board, and the large pestle and mortar of hers that Cas had claimed for the spell. Idly she promised herself she’d throw it out if they got through this, because there was no way she was preparing anything to eat in it after all the things on the table before her had been ground down in there.

A lore book lay propped open next to what looked a lot like a shrivelled heart, and Bea found herself swallowing a little in disgust. “All this is gonna do it?” she asked, knowing the question was pointless but feeling the need to keep talking to try and give at least a false sense of being calm.

“Yes,” Cas mumbled absently, already losing himself in his preparations.

“So?” Bea fidgeted awkwardly where she stood, feeling helpless as she watched him work. “What can I do? Anything?”

“Promise not to hit me too hard when this is over?” he offered, shooting a smile in her direction somehow without even looking up.

“Depends on how much this hurts,” she huffed, eyes straying down to his hands. “You have to touch my soul, right? To bind your grace there?”

“Yes.”

Bea nodded, more to herself than to him. “Sam says that hurts.”

“He would know,” Cas agreed, wrapping his fingers around the edge of the table and bracing himself there for a moment, glancing up at her.

Bea let out a soft hiss at that, and Cas shook his head sorrowfully. “Bea. If there were another way…”

“I know,” she said, raising her arms in acceptance. “Let’s just get this thing over with already.”

“Stand here,” Cas said, pulling her directly in front of and facing him.

Bea looked up at him, shaking, but her eyes showed nothing but complete trust. Cas smiled for a second, raising his hand to rest gently against her cheek, and then took a breath, still holding her gaze.

“I love you,” she told him, eyes becoming bright. Cas’ face flooded with pain, and he tore his gaze away, curling his right hand around her forearm while preparing the last of the ingredients with his left.

Bea kept her eyes on the side of his face as he worked, swallowing nervously as he began chanting the words for the spell. She tried to keep perfectly still, even when the temperature of the air around them seemed to rapidly increase as though they were boiling in their very skin.

A bright, painful light soon cocooned them both, and she had to close her eyes almost completely to stop them from stinging.

Behind her, Bea heard a whooshing noise, and a scatter of papers, and glass shattering, but she kept her attention only on Cas. His face contorted, and his body convulsed, the spell beginning to take its hold and taking away his voice momentarily. He fought back, gasping out his next words and stumbling a little forward.

Shakily lifting his hand, Cas pressed his fingertips against Bea’s chest just below her sternum, and paused for a beat. “I’m sorry, Bea,” he whispered, before plunged his fingers all the way in.

To begin with, the light radiating out from her chest fascinated Bea enough to distract her from the pain. But when it hit, she couldn’t help crying out, almost doubling over, with Cas flinching in response and muttering apology after apology at her as he reached over and grabbed a knife.

Carving into his own chest, Cas sucked in his own pain, covering the wound there with his palm and continuing the chanting. A light grew from deep within him, swirling its way out like smoke, and drifting towards the cavity in Bea’s own chest as though it was going home.

When Cas’ grace hit Bea’s soul, she staggered forward in agony, clutching on to Cas for support. It was all he could do to keep her upright since the pain he felt himself was too strong to do little else but hold on and try to ride it out.

With a shaky hand, Cas reached over to his left, laying his hand over the churning light emitting from the bowl by his side. The light between them flickered, and with a sound so harsh that it deafened them both temporarily, the wounds in their chests healed over leaving them feeling raw, and weak.

Bea fell against Cas, and he wrapped his arm around her as best he could whilst turning back to the table and gasping out the last words of the spell.

Another gust of wind blew fiercely behind them, and suddenly there was a dragging sensation through his chest that temporarily winded him. With no strength left to even raise his head, Cas gave out a final agonised gasp, collapsing down in a heap on an unfamiliar dirt-covered floor.

***

  
  
  



	13. Chapter 13

“What have you done?”

Kushiel’s eyes were blown wide with utter fury, fists curling threateningly by his sides.

Cas smiled tiredly at him as he managed to push himself up and shakily on to his feet, feeling both weak, and yet somehow strengthened. “You know what I have done.”

Kushiel rapidly glanced over him in utter disbelief, as though trying to find that what he was seeing before him was untrue.

Cas’ heart pounded out, and not a small amount of that was in fear. But elation was there too, that this was now all over, and that Bea was finally safe - at least from possession, if not yet from Kushiel and whatever retribution he thought to take because of what Cas had done.

The spell to convert his grace into a soul had taken all that he had, and he was still working through the aftermath of that. Ideally he needed time to recover, to  _ sleep  _ , he thought to himself with a soft laugh, but clearly Kushiel was not about to wait around for him to take a nap.

But the spell had worked, and he was still here, and Bea  _ would  _ be safe; Dean would see to that, Cas knew that for certain. So Cas couldn’t find it in him to think of a single complaint, despite standing before Kushiel now as a mere man, completely at his mercy without so much as a weapon to defend himself.

Kushiel had caught him unawares, having been drawn to the energy emitted from such a powerful spell. Cas knew the addictive lure of power, and had half expected Kushiel to interrupt them before he had time to finish. But either Kushiel’s over-confidence in his own abilities was misjudged, or Cas had found himself lucky yet again.

Kushiel had transported him away from Bea’s apartment with such startling speed, that Cas could now appreciate all Dean’s and Bea’s regular complaints about being  _ zapped _ from place to place.

It made him smile to know he finally understood what they had been telling him all along.

“Then I offer you release of this… burden that you have inflicted upon yourself,” Kushiel growled in disgusted rage. “If you would choose to become human, then you will know what it is to die human,” Kushiel vowed, raising a fist and punching Cas hard in the face with unrelenting force.

As Cas struggled to right himself, spitting out the blood that flooded his mouth, Kushiel pulled out a blade, crowding even closer to him. With the slightest flick of his wrist, Kushiel was grabbing Cas’ hair and yanking his head back hard, resting the sharp tip of the blade against his throat in menace.

Cas’ breath came out harsh, and his attempts to get his hands up to try and get some kind of hold on Kushiel were to no avail. Spots of blood bloomed on his neck, and with every choked out breath pushing against the blade, Cas added another.

Kushiel leaned in, so close that Cas could see the wild fury in his eyes and feel his breath on his face. The blade then cluttered to the floor to be replaced by a suffocating grip, and Cas struggled against it, fighting for air as well as to get his fingers in the tiniest of gaps between Kushiel’s fingers and his own neck, to attempt to rip his hand away.

“It is not enough,” Kushiel barked, suddenly pulling back, leaving Cas stuttering forward and gasping for air. “You will suffer. More,” and raising a hand, he smiled at Cas, watching as he writhed in pain before him without the slightest touch.

So blinded was he by his anger and his intent, that Kushiel was oblivious to Bea, who silently appeared behind him with soundless steps.

Her eyes searched wildly in the dark in the direction where she had heard the blade fall, and when she finally saw it she moved, as quietly as she could, squatting down slow and steady to try and avoid drawing attention to herself.

Standing directly behind Kushiel again and seeing the way Cas writhed in pain and his face flushed red, and blue, and purple, momentarily stopped her in her tracks.

But then she moved, plunging the blade through Kushiel’s chest with all of her strength, grunting at the force of it and the jarring feel of the knife striking bone. Kushiel let out a soft choking gasp as though he had been winded, looking down at himself in bewilderment as the tip of the blade protruded out in front. He looked back up to Cas for a moment, incredulous at what he was seeing. And in the next instant, he was gone, with Cas collapsing to the floor at Bea’s feet.

***

Bea curled herself over Cas’ unmoving body protectively, one shaking hand feeling for a pulse at his neck whilst the other frantically dialled Sam’s number, and kept missing the buttons. To her, it seemed like forever before she heard the frantic footfall of Dean, with Sam following closely behind. Dean threw himself down on the floor beside them, his heart threatening to leap out of his throat as his knees came to a skidding stop against Cas’ side, but did nothing to rouse him.

Bea’s broken sobs, begging Cas to wake up, made Dean fear the worst, and he choked down the sob that he felt rising, dropping his head forward to rest on Cas’ chest. He gasped out in relief feeling a soft thudding against his cheek, letting his tears fall unchecked and unnoticed.

“He’s okay, Bea. He’s okay,” he managed to stutter out, laying a hand over Cas’ heart and staring at him as if he was afraid that looking away would mean Cas would disappear.

Gently, Sam crouched down beside Bea, glancing at Cas’ face for a moment before dropping down onto his knees and dragging Bea into his arms, rocking her wordlessly as she cried.

“How’d you get here?” he eventually asked her, leaning down to kiss her softly as he wiped away relieved tears from her face.

“I guess… I guess the spell? I don’t know, Sam. Honest I don’t. One minute there’s this… light between us,” she said uncertainly, clutching a hand to her chest and looking down as if expecting to see an open wound. “And the pain, Sam. It was… disgusting,” For a second she looked as though she would start retching there and then, but a soothing hand from Sam on her back calmed her enough to fight it and keep talking.

“Then Kushiel was just... there. Out of nowhere. And you know how you get that weird pulling sensation when Cas flies us anywhere,” Bea sucked in a shaky breath, her eyes growing wide as she sat back in shock. “ _ Flew  _ us anywhere. He can’t do that anymore,” she said haltingly, eyes brimming with tears once again.

Sam gathered her closer, pressing reassuring kisses everywhere he could reach. “Go on,” he prompted softly, feeling her nod against him.

“So one minute, he’s there behind us, and the next, there’s this… tugging feeling right here,” she looked down again, hand back on her chest. “I kind of felt tethered. To Cas. And we landed here, but I guess I must’ve passed out, because when I came round, all I could hear was Cas choking,”

Bea’s sobs overwhelmed her again for a moment, and her voice wavered as she said, “I killed him, Sam. Kushiel. And whoever he was-”

“Shh,” Was all Sam managed, tipping her face up to his to kiss her again.

Dean had listened absently to the entire exchange, not able to take his eyes away from Cas. He knew he could feel his chest rising and falling beneath his palm, but it wasn’t enough. It wouldn’t be enough, not until Cas woke up and looked back at him.

“Cas,” Dean managed, his voice cracking. “C'mon. Up you get. Time to go home,” he urged him softly, leaning down over his face and kissing his unmoving lips. “C’mon, Cas. Come back to me,” he pleaded, lifting Cas’ head to rest on his knees.

“Please, Cas,” he choked out, glancing up to Sam for support.

“He’ll be okay, Dean,” Sam told him, swallowing roughly as Bea sobbed again against his chest. “We’ll get him back to the bunker-”

“Home,” Dean cut him off sharply, his own voice breaking.

“Home,” Sam amended. “We’ll get him home.”

***

  
  
  



	14. Chapter 14

“I thought I’d lost you,”

Cas glanced down from the ceiling and over to where Dean was watching him from a chair to the side of the bed, letting out a soft gasp as he took in Dean’s face. His eyes were bruised with lack of sleep, his chin heavily stubbled as though he hadn’t shaved in days, and his expression was an odd mixture of lost and relieved.

Cas shifted a little, wincing at the way his entire body seemed to ache, but especially at the discomfort around his throat.

When he’d woken, everything had seemed too bright, and too sharp, and it was all he could do to slowly open his eyes and stare straight ahead of him. “I am sorry to have caused you concern,” he croaked out dryly, closing his eyes tiredly and rolling his head back against the pillow with a grimace.

There was silence for a minute, and then Cas’ eyes were shooting open again at the feel of Dean sliding his fingers across his palm.

“Cas,” Dean choked out, Cas looking up at him in alarm at the distress in his voice.

“Told you I can’t lose you, man. I need you,” Dean’s jaw trembled, his eyes growing bright with unshed tears, and a soft gasp escaped from somewhere in the back of his throat.

Cas fumbled out and gripped his fingers around Dean’s in the hope of giving him some reassurance, but it didn’t seem to be enough. He watched Dean struggle to keep a hold of his emotions, feeling his heart pounding to see him so upset.

“Dean,” Cas said softly, squeezing his fingers again, and Dean was surging forward with another escaping sob.

Gently, doing his best not to disturb the bed too much, Dean laid down beside Cas, leaning a little over him and resting a shaky hand against his cheek. His eyes were wide, and kept firmly on Cas’ as he bent over him, pressing an insistent kiss against his lips.

“I need you,” he whispered against his mouth, kissing him once more, nudging Cas mouth open to let him in.

Cas sighed against Dean, fumbling his right arm beneath Dean to hold around him awkwardly at his waist, whilst his left reached up to grip the back of Dean’s head to keep him firmly in place so he could kiss him back.

“I’m here, Dean. I’m here,”

***

“I don’t remember agreeing to this,”

Dean sat beside Cas, fingers continually dropping beneath the table to wrap themselves around Cas’ over where their thighs were flush together.

Bea grinned at him from beneath Sam’s arm, reaching out to steal another fry from his plate.

“Yeah you did,” Sam smiled, taking a swig of his beer. “You said it yourself. When this was all over,  _ road trip  _ . Since when do you object to road trips?” he laughed, squeezing Bea in the crook of his arm.

“C’mon, Sam.” Dean shifted awkwardly in his seat, eyes glancing briefly over at Cas and back at Sam as if that was all the explanation he needed to give. “It’s been a week.”

That Cas was now human had sent Dean into protective mode overload, watching his every move and wincing at the slightest incident that might cause Cas discomfort or injury. Bea accused him of mollycoddling, offering to cut up Cas’ food and play airplanes to get him to eat, but the look of contempt both Dean and Cas had shot her had her ducking behind Sam and spinning away from them in laughter.

A week, clearly to Dean, was far too soon to be dragging Cas off anywhere, even if it might be somewhere fun. He wanted him to be fully recovered, to have time to adapt to this major change in his life, even if Cas seemed almost nonchalant about the circumstances he had found himself in.

“Dean,” Cas mumbled, leaning over a little against Dean’s arm. “If you are concerned that I am not ‘ready’,”

Dean’s face twisted, first in delight at the air quoting, particular as one of the air quotes was performed from beneath the confines of his own hand, and second in agreement that yes, that Cas not being ready was his exact concern.

“A road trip sounds good. I have never had a vacation, Dean,” Cas smiled over at Sam and Bea, receiving a wink from her, before looking back at Dean full of expectation. “I believe I am ready for a vacation,” he added, his voice a little heavy and his eyes flicking away with his expression clouding over just enough for Dean to panic.

If anyone deserved to get away from things, Dean thought, it was Cas.

Dean glimpsed over at Sam and Bea, already knowing that he was outnumbered in that direction. He then gave Cas his full attention, studying his face carefully, trying to gauge exactly what Cas really wanted. Cas could see that in his eyes, and nudged against him again, curling a little tighter around his fingers. “Please, Dean. I want this. I think it would be good. For all of us,”

And Dean knew he was defeated. He rolled his eyes, sighing out in his most put-upon tone, then leaned forward and kissed Cas squarely on the mouth, lingering there a little and grinning at him as though he’d never seen anything so incredible in his life. “Anything, you want, Cas,” he said, kissing him again. “Anything you want,”

“And you tell us to get a room,” Bea huffed from across the table, obviously in delight despite the way she crossed her arms as though she were about to lecture them on safe sex.

“Get a room,” Dean and Cas said in unison, not taking their eyes off of each other.

***

“I told you we shoulda got stronger sunblock,” Dean grumbled, frowning at the slight pink tinge across the bridge of Cas’ nose and cheeks, before smudging far too much after-sun on his face and slowly dabbing it in as delicately as he could manage with his finger pads, wincing all the way through it.

Cas smirked up from beneath Dean’s hands, his own hands raising to grip lightly around his waist. “Bea would accuse you of fussing,” he told him, fighting the amusement he felt at the indignant huff Dean responded with.

“You know what Bea can do,” he mumbled to himself, lifting Cas’ chin a little and angling it this way and that, to make sure all the cream was rubbed in. “Besides. Bea isn’t here, is she?”

Cas’ eyes twinkled, and he slid his hands up under Dean’s shirt, leaning up to where Dean half- straddled his lap, and kissed him. “No, Dean. She is not. And neither is Sam,” he pointed out, splaying his hands across his skin.

Dean’s face split into a grin, and he cupped Cas’ jaw in his hands, kissing him softly. “Aren’t you glad how… convenient it was… this idea of getting two rooms?” he asked him, flicking his tongue out against Cas’ lower lip.

“Very glad,” Cas agreed, slowly drifting his hands up Dean’s back and pulling his shirt up and over his head in one swift move.

Separate rooms had been essential. For all of them. Dean and Cas had a lot of making up for lost time to do, after all.

“Especially as I believe I need you to check if I have sunburn elsewhere,” Cas said, his hands dropped back down, fingers curled just above the band of Dean’s jeans, resting on his stomach.

Dean chuckled low against him, happy to go with whatever Cas asked of him, no matter how ridiculous it sounded. “Okay, Cas,” he said reasonably, shifting back a little on his legs. “Tell me where it hurts,”

“Everywhere,” Cas told him with a forlorn look that held only a moment before he was smirking wickedly, unbuttoning Dean as he kissed him. “Starting here,” he said, angling his head to one side. Dean bent instantly, nuzzling and licking at Cas’ neck and gasping softly at the noise of approval Cas gave him back. He was never going to get enough of that, no matter how many times he heard it.

Dean kissed his way round the neckline of Cas’ shirt, nosing his way just under the edge of it. “Where next?” he whispered there, already lifting Cas’ shirt. Cas’ arms raised up easily to give him access.

“Here,” he said, dropping his hands back down to his stomach with a wolfish grin.

“I see,” Dean said, nodding seriously, before picking up his trail of kisses again. He stopped for a moment to suck on each of Cas’ nipples in turn, before kissing and licking his the way down, giving Cas’ stomach a light bite as his hands drifted up and down his thighs. “Anywhere else?”

“You have much more knowledge about these things than I do, Dean.” Cas told him seriously, though it was lost in the grin on his face. “I believe you know the best places to check.”

Dean laughed again, dropping his forehead down against Cas’ stomach and tilting his head to kiss against the swelling in his jeans. “Yeah, Cas. I suppose I do. These are gonna have to come off,” he said with a mock sigh, already sliding down Cas’ jeans and boxers and tugging them off his legs. Cas hummed contentedly to himself as he did, parting his legs a little more as Dean knelt back between them.

“Now. Where was I?” he said, curling himself back over, brushing his lips against the head of Cas’ cock and watching it jerk in response.

“There,” Cas said haltingly, “I believe there.” and he rolled his hips up a little as Dean lathed his tongue over him again.

“Seriously, Cas,” Dean said, kissing his way down Cas’ length before working his way back up, licking at his slit. “You ever get sunburnt here? Me and you are gonna have to have some serious discussion about what you share and don’t share in public.”

Dean sucked him into his mouth before Cas could respond to that, and Cas could only gasp, thrusting himself up a little as he did. Dean hollowed his cheeks and moaned softly around him before pulling off, leaving Cas whimpering beneath him for more. “My eyes only, okay?” Dean told him, raising an eyebrow.

Dean heard how possessive that sounded to his own ear, finding he didn’t care one bit. Especially as Cas nodded rapidly in agreement and thrust his hips up again, asking Dean to taking him back into his mouth.

“Only yours, Dean.”

***

“You miss it yet?”

Dean asked the same question he worried into words at least once a month, pressing his nose against Cas’ skin and breathing deep. Cas smiled against his pillow, bracketed in his own arms that he’d slid beneath it, and shook his head a fraction, just as he had done every time.

“Not yet,” he promised, fluttering his eyes closed at the feel of Dean’s lips against his shoulder blades, sighing as they hit the dip between them where Dean insisted his wings must have jutted out from. “You are keeping me too distracted to have time to think about it,”

Dean had been working hard on doing just that. From the moment Cas had first opened his eyes post-Kushiel, and every moment since, Dean had made it his mission to keep Cas as happy as he could. He didn’t need to tell Cas why; Cas knew all of Dean’s regrets about not acting on his feelings sooner, and all of his fears that the fragility of life would cause Cas untold grief if he took the time to think about it.

“Got a problem with that?” Dean asked, hands slowly stroking down his back before shifting on the bed to lay next to him. Cas reached out for him easily, pulling him close as he shook his head.

“No, Dean. Never,”

Dean smiled, relieved as always, stretching forward to reward him with a kiss for his answer.

***

Despite Cas taking to humanity with seemingly no effort required at all, it wasn’t always easy for him. Sometimes Cas woke in the midst of the most horrific nightmares that left both he and Dean drenched in sweat and Cas clasping at him in terror. It took Dean’s most persuasive of skills to calm him down each and every time, kissing reassurances into his skin until his heart calmed, and Cas felt safe enough to bury himself in Dean’s arms, before trying to sleep again.

When Cas experienced his first cold, Dean had switched to full panic mode, buying every remedy under the sun and watching him with such concern, Cas had begun to wonder if there was more to the common cold than he’d been previously led to believe.

And for every new thing Cas handled with ease came another, more arduous one that left him frustrated and glaring as though he still had the ability to smite. A toaster had had a lucky escape when Cas managed to wedge something inside it, and Cas had his own lucky escape too when Dean yanked it - and the knife he was using to unwedge it - out of his hands, pushing them far away and on to the kitchen side, unplugging it from the socket as he went.

But Cas, Cas was happy. Happy in a way he never knew he could be, and that he hadn’t known he was capable of or ever believed that he would deserve.

Giving up his grace was not the sacrifice he had once feared it to be, he found now, surrounded by the people that cared for him and that he cared for in return. Dean, Bea and Sam had shown him what family meant, and allowed him to become a part of their world as if he had always belonged there with them.

He looked up now from the book he was reading, to see Bea sulking in Sam’s arms as she’d managed to jam the gun he was teaching her to put back together yet again. Cas smiled as Bea wrinkled her nose, before spinning and wrapping her arms around Sam in a fierce hug that had him stumbling backwards and choking out a blast of laughter.

Warm hands touched his shoulders, and seconds later his back was pressed against Dean’s chest, with Cas’ hands falling idly to his sides to rest on Dean’s thighs.

Dean pressed a kiss into Cas’ neck, sneaking one arm around his waist as the other pressed a bottle into Cas’ hand, before curling his fingers around his own bottle. Cas leaned his head back enough to rest on Dean’s shoulder, and closed his eyes in content.

  
  
  



End file.
